And he swore that he'll never,ever do it again
And of course he won't (on not until the next time)"
The opening lines from a sweet little ditty by The Smiths, which pretty much sums up Cooper, (the cat one) at the moment. Me and Cooper are having major relationship issues right now. I may even have dramatically announced "It's so over" as I locked him in his bedroom after this particular incident.
Why? I hear you ponder (well probably not but hey). Well imagine the scenario, it's just past midnight, I a happily heading for bed, giving Scruff her final pat of the night, when I spy through the door the little green eyes of Cooper. So I let him in, as you do and he scampers in quite pleased with himself and clearly on a mission to break into the cupboard under the stairs.
And thats when I noticed, the little friend he'd brought home with him, the one dangling from his little catty fangs, by its tail. The truth well and truly dawned, the little git had pounced on some poor little mouse. Oh my god, just what a girl needs.
Initially I rather bizarrely attempted to reason with Cooper to release Mousie, it was like some bizarre hostage negotiation. Didn't last long though as Cooper (petulent teenager that he now appears to be) shot me a glance of "As if" and then raced off up the stairs, mouse still being dangled. I off course was in hot pursuit, still reading him the riot act of why bringing home uninvited guests was just not on frankly. I caught him of course at the top of the stairs. he was endeavouring to flick mouse from paw to paw, truly a psychopath I swear it. No match for e though, oh no, I was on a mission to save mousie. What followed was much more shouting and attempts to grab Cooper who kept shooting me glances of "And you think you are who exactly?". In the end and its embarrasing to admit it, I threw a toilet roll at aforementioned psychopathic cat. Well in his general vicinity not actually with the intention of belting him with it, that would be just mean. And no, I didn't run to the bathroom to get it, it was just on the landing (I don't know why OK). Anyway it had the desired effect and Cooper retreated a couple of stairs down, from where I grabbed him and dispatched him to his bedroom aka the dining room. Cooper in protest mewed very loudly. Scruffbag, knowing this was pretty serious stayed in her basket, snout hidden under blanket.
The mouse, well by some miracle the rather dishevelled, damp looking mouse, which was shivering in the corner was still alive. Dazed but alive. So off I went, found a sheet of newspaper for mouse to clamber on and took him to the veg patch. Thankfully it was dark so the neighbours were spared the site of me in my pyjamas. Mouse still a bit dazed was fine, had a bit of a sit and a think, presumably about its near death experience and then pondered which way was home.
I went off to watch telly with Scruffbag, well a girl can't sleep after high drama like this not with any amount of Ovaltine. Scruff emerged from her basket to be supportive, ie stick her chin on me and look mournful (not sure why she thinks that solves everything but she does). And what of Cooper, well he was still miaowing in protest from his room, presumably something about the infringement of his rights to chase mice.
I'd like to say he swore that he'd never ever do it again, but he didn't. In fact next morning when he was released fro his room instead of his usual run to his bowl, he wanted to be let out to look for his mouse. No chance.
Here he is, oh yes, doesn't look like a psychotic serial killer does he? Well don't be fooled. Cooper Ezekiel Beelzebub Ronnie Reggie Psycho (his show name) is not to be trusted around birds, mice. Oh yes and if the latest report from Big Al and Nige are true, squirrels. He has apparently graduated to squirrel chasing.
Oh yes and in case you're not convinced this incident is a repeat offence, the week before there was also a mouse dangling incident, he merrily taunted me with that one as I carried the shopping in from the car. There was also the decapitated one, I found on the doorstep, I swear its a miracle I'm not in therapy.
Oh and for those unfamiliar with English wildlife, here's the poor victim (well a lookalike even I wouldn't make the poor thing pose for photos after its trauma).
I imagine, just as the in the song I imagine Cooper would make some plea in mitigation of "he was old and he would have died anyway". And yes I know he is a cat and its his nature etc, but surely after all these years he'd have some respect for my lentil choming sensibilities, surely?
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