Last November, I was confronted with the evidence that we had a mouse problem in our house for the first time since we've lived there. I can't say I really did anything proactive about it, but you'd think that with four cats and a dog wandering about the premises, the solution would be pretty obvious.
Fast forward to last night. We'd gone over to leech off our friends' HBO subscription watch "Game of Thrones" with some friends and when we got home and walked into the kitchen, we could see that Dr. Jones was very engaged with something in the corner. I immediately suspected that he'd found a mouse, and a flick of the light switch confirmed it.
Meanwhile, all the activity got Xena and Velvet's attention as well. It wasn't long before all three cats gathered in the kitchen to, I assumed, make short work of the interloper.
Instead, they managed to let it escape behind the refrigerator.
There was no more sign of it for the rest of the evening, so I eventually went to bed...but only after carefully checking the sheets to make sure no one had left a mouse carcass "gift" there. Xena likes to bring her toys into our bed, so it was a valid concern.
When I woke up this morning, my husband told me that the cats had managed to kill the mouse during the night and he had handled the disposal. I appreciated that, especially since our division of labor back in the old days when we still had an outdoor cat was that I dealt with mammals and he cleaned up the dead birds.
Who knows how many more mice are lurking in our walls and cupboards, but at least the cats have gotten the hang of their varmint killing role. If the critters know what's good for them, they'll leave now. Ish.