Under stress, I always put on my shoes

The sign on the table read, "Call me about the bowl outside by the laundry room."

I peered out the door. Our biggest stainless steel mixing bowl was out on the side deck.

Him: You know how, when the cats are acting weird, it's important to take them seriously?

Me: Yes . . .

Him: Well, when I came downstairs this morning, both Pasha and Oliver were staring intently under the sideboard.

Me: . . .

Him: And then Pasha went under there and rooted around for a bit, and when she came out she had a mouse in her mouth.

Me: Oh my god! Like in Troy!

Him: She started batting it around and throwing it up in the air.

Me: Ew!

Him: Then it would escape and she or Oliver would chase it and catch it.

Me: <a variety of gasping and gagging sounds>

Him: And it was 6 in the morning and I was trying to get ready for my meeting, so I grabbed that bowl and an empty cereal box, and I somehow manoeuvred the mouse into the bowl. Which I put outside.

Me: I'm going to see if it's still in there.

Him: I don't think it could get out.

Me: (opening the door slowly and tiptoeing onto the deck) There's nothing in that bowl.

* * * * * * * * * *

So. A mouse.

I'm actually much better with the idea of mice in the house then, say, spiders. But the idea of mouse is still very different than seeing a live one skittering across the living room floor.

I guess we will keep our eyes open and keep a close watch on the cats, before we do anything rash.

But seriously? When you add in the rats in the park and the baby birds that just hatched next door, I feel like this is turning into a wildlife blog.

* * * * * * * * * *

In other news, I solved the mystery of the wet map.

It turns out a toddler with a heavy morning diaper can make a puddle on the floor through her already wet pajamas.

Good observation skills, Sherlock.