The brightly colored yellow and blue ad from Kohl’s Department Store announced, “If you give a mouse a home... you’ll make a difference for kids!”
I thought how a mouse in the house can make a difference for a cat, too. Ever since Oreo, our tuxedo kitty, had her first catch snatched from her lips, she’s been quiet — out of sorts.
She’d spotted her prey between the china hutch and the stack of country baskets about the time nature kicked into gear.
Suddenly, she’d remembered what she was born to do — catch a mouse. Proudly, she’d come to show it off and been greeted by ... well, you guessed it, a louder squeak.
Out went the mouse.
Since then, the old gray plush mouse toy she used to love just doesn’t hold much interest. I think Oreo is wearing the same glum expression kids wear when the best Halloween candies are carried off by their parents.
However, little does our cat know that she has barely anything to pout about. She could be living in a house occupied by rats and not be able to touch a single one.
I discovered this phenomenon when a high school classmate of mine posted pictures of his pets on Facebook. There, lined up at the food bowls — ones that looked a lot like cat dishes — were five plump rats.
I trapped a squeal.
Once my shuddering ceased, I couldn’t help but wonder. How exactly does a cat fit into this scenario? Chuck had mentioned in another post that he rescues and adopts feral felines where he lives in Hawaii.
I clicked on the next photo. It explained it all.
There, in plain view, was a cat under the bed with just its back legs in view. It reminded me of how children hide under their blankets when life doesn’t go their way.
It also made me think that Chuck's Hawaiian kitty and my Oreo might be in a similar state of mind and meowing the same tune: “If you give a mouse — or a rat — a home, it can make a difference.”
Especially to a cat.