The husband said a mouse was in the garage.  He wanted to make a live trap. I was horrified.  “We have cats!”

Him – “My way leaves the mouse alive. Aren’t you a vegetarian?”

“The cats aren’t.”

We looked at each other in the silent acknowledgement of the pros and cons of this plan. “Ok, well try the cats first and then get a trap,” he decided.




  • The mightiest hunter who ever did live. I’ve seen her chilling in the yard and then jump up and snag a bird flying 5 feet over her head. A lot of yelling about how we don’t eat birds followed while she ate her bird.  She doesn’t play with prey. She kills in seconds and gets on with her life.


  • She’s 15 years old and very frail now. Her mass murdering days are behind her. But maybe she has one more hunt in her.
  • Did I mention how frail she is? A good sized mouse might win that fight.




  • He’s in the prime of his life. No weakness here.
  • He loves to hunt things. He hunts his toys, bugs, lint, and Powder despite being repeatedly told to leave old ladies alone. It is time to show him what he has been practicing for.


  • He was born in a shelter and has been an indoor cat all his life. “Mouse” is just a shape toys come in
  • He’s afraid of the garage since he heard the garage door opener up close.


I took Powder to the garage and told her the mission.  She immediately started a perimeter patrol.  I went to get Paul. He panicked when he saw he was headed to the garage and put 4 puncture wounds and 1 laceration on my left bicep.  Eventually we were all in the garage. Powder had finished her first circuit and walked up to me. Paul started screaming and crying and pawing at the door to the house.

Powder looked at him with total disgust. “Back in my day cats didn’t have to be taught how to cat.  Kittens these days are too soft!”

I let him back in the house before he had a heart attack.  Powder stomped off on perimeter patrol number 2.

I went upstairs. Paul stayed by the door to the garage crying piteously because we had abandoned Powder to certain death in the horrible GARAGE.

1 hour later Paul was done crying (probably because he had given up all hope of ever seeing Powder again).  The husband went downstairs. Powder hadn’t found a mouse but she was mighty proud of herself and did not want to come in.  I checked an hour later with a nervous Paul peering around the door to see if she was still alive.  She reported the situation as under control from her station on the mat. She supposed she could come in. She slowly sauntered in with a superior glance at her fraidy cat housemate. Hopefully, she left enough scent to let everyone know that apex predators live here (Well, one apex predator at least) and prey should stay out.

She was very full of herself all night. She had a strut to her stride that I hadn’t seen in a while.  Give an old lady a job and she gets all her self esteem back.

No mice have been seen.  Either they ran away from Paul’s horrible screeching or they died laughing.