I've always been a cat person and ever since momma brought me home from the hospital there was a cat in the house. After high school I left home (cat-less) and moved in with my father. Shortly after that I hooked up with my first husband and we were off to the pet store to buy a cat. We picked a cat that was caged in solitude because she was known for picking on the other kittens. She was a dark calico kitty with a fiery personality and we named her "Einstein."
Now cats are funny creatures. They can pick up on all sorts of things ... like they can tell when a person is really a jerk ... even if you can't tell so with the human eye. Einstein was smart like that and as my marriage deteriorated so did her attitude towards my now ex-husband. She became a pretty pissed off animal and not much fun until my ex took off for several months to work in Ohio. Suddenly she was this loving cat and we spent a lot of time together. Then, he returned and she welcomed him home by pissing on his pillow! Like I said ... cats have excellent judgement.
Needless to say, the ex strategically got rid of Einstein. She was with us for four trips across the country and five years, but even she (like so many other aspects of my life) was unable to survive the divorce.
As soon as I left my digs with said ex-husband, I RAN to the pet store in search of a new companion. This is when I found Photina. Phoey (as I like to call her) is also a bit strange, but not in an Einstein kind of way. She was my Christmas present to me and she (for all intents and purposes) was perfect. I vowed to keep her until death and successfully won that argument when I moved in with James.
Today Phoey spends most of her time lounging on the couch. She use to sleep with me but ever since we introduced the dog into the family, she's more inclined to reside in the living room. She's hairy and a diva to boot, but Phoey knows how to earn her keep.
You see, a few years ago I started a massive recycling endeavor. Most of our trash is divided into boxes and hauled to the recycling bins. The boxes are kept in the garage. Now as with any good deed, I was punished. Turns out mice like rummaging through trash. MICE! Give me snakes and spiders ... but you can keep the mice! So for the first time ever we ran into a mouse problem that is an issue during the warm months.
Sunday, James spotted a mouse in the garage as he was preparing to leave for Nevada. Tuesday evening I watched Photina dive from the sink in the mud room to the floor and before I knew it she had herself a little prize. Now this fact alone is the only reason James will admit to liking the cat. She loves herself some mice and if one enters the house its a death sentence.
Back to the mouse.
I hate mice, I don't even like to look at one. Last summer I saw one on my couch and it took me a month before I would sit on it again. So what is a girl to do when the cat kills a mouse and no one is here to remove the remains? Well that is what the 4-year-old is for of course! I had Maddox close the door to the mud room for two hours while Phontina did whatever she wanted to that poor mouse. Then, I sent him in looking for body parts. But he didn't find any.
So my question is, did she eat the whole thing or is its body hidden somewhere waiting for me to discover while doing laundry?
Stay tuned ....
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