One summer a while back, Oscar and I had a misunderstanding. Three dead mice at my feet in the kitchen all in one evening had me ranting and raving. "Stop it, stop it!" I fumed at him. "I just can't bear it!" He knew I was cross and he hated to see me upset. Big fearless boy that he was, he was also a serious Love Mummy Lap Fungus and we had a great relationship. Being a terribly clever and understanding, cat he realised that his mouse retrieval behaviour would have to change so as not to upset the wielder of the tin opener. Charley just averted her gaze and pretended that the constant mice deliveries were nothing to do with her. Not true, but never mind. Those two did everything together.

As the days passed, I realised that Oscar had misunderstood big time. He thought the fact that the mice were dead was what had upset me. So now he proceeded to bring them all in alive. And well. And scampering. From my tantrum day on, he never harmed a hair on their heads. He simply showed them to me if I was around at the time and then let them go, displaying a total disinterest once they were in his home space. It was clearly the catching of them in the Great Outdoors that was the challenge and as to their fate thereafter, he couldn't have cared less. Much sniffing at where they had taken up residence in the house, yes. But action? No way. And Charley followed her brother's lead and did exactly the same thing.

Only us lot Chez Cassel could have two cats and yet be overrun with mice. Oh well, I thought. No matter. We're moving out in four weeks time. Let the horrid landlord (and he was indeed horrid) deal with it. And besides, if there is one thing that I really hate, it is attempting to catch and/or poison live mice.

Now my son Ben at the age of four was still a very early riser who considered the ungodly hour of 6:00AM at the weekends to be a positive lie in. He would often wake up at 5:00AM and go downstairs to the sitting room to play with his toys before I woke up. As I arose that day, I could hear him happily playing downstairs with his new little battery-operated train set. It was a Lego one and he really loved it. It meant that he could build all sorts of carriages and engines of all different sizes and run them on its circular track. I'll just go and make myself a coffee I thought, before planning the day and chatting to my kid.

As I went into the sitting room, coffee in hand, there was Ben playing happily with his train set and there were Oscar and Charley by his side. Both cats were absolutely still, ears pricked forward, semi pounce position, with tails thrashing from side to side, but I thought nothing more of it. Just as I was about to sit down, Ben announced:

"Look, Mum, look at the new carriages I've built and look at what's inside!"

"Lovely darling, I murmured" still half asleep, "Very creative."

"But Mum, LOOK!" he said.

And then I did finally properly look. And dropped my full coffee cup to the floor. Eek! "Ben" I stuttered in horror, "What, what's that inside the carriage with it's little nose poking out?!" "It's my pet mousey Mum" he said. "Joe Mouse really loves going around the track in his own personal carriage that I've built for him. He's so sweet. He was running around the sitting room this morning all lonely and now we're friends. Can I keep him? Can he be part of the family?"

It was all too much. Meanwhile, Oscar had finally made a move and was trying to mount the carriage containing Joe Mouse and Charley was performing a rearguard action, ready for the potential escapee. Dear God, what to do? Right I thought. It's time to take control.

"Darling, we can't possibly keep him," I said. "We'll take him outside and put him down by the river where he can rejoin his friends and family."

"But his friends and family live here with us" he wailed. He had a point, there was no gainsaying it, but I wasn't having it.

"You hold Oscar and Charley" I said "And I'll deal with the mouse."

"But he's my pet," he sobbed.

Joe Mouse was finally and with much effort popped into a shoe box ready for the Great Outdoors with my tear streaked son having finally let go of the cats who were not best pleased being left out of the final stages of the family railway drama. Off to the front door I went with Oscar and Charley at my heels ready to assist in mouse repatriation. "I won't be a minute" I said to my heartbroken son, "And then I'll think of something to cheer you up. Don't let Oscar and Charley out of the front door. Give me time to settle Joe Mouse down outside."

I had forgotten of course to lock the cat flap. No sooner was Joe Mouse out of the shoe box down by the river, but there were Oscar and Charley, bright eyed and bushy tailed, hot on the trail. I felt terrible about it, but what could I do? With a heavy heart, I returned to the house. Five minutes later, there was Oscar through the cat flap with a mouse in his mouth, with Charley only a paw width behind. Ben was delighted. "It's Joe Mouse, it's Joe Mouse, I know it!" he yelled. "Good boy Oscar, let him go!" And Oscar did. But Joe Mouse had obviously become railway wary and my son never managed to trap him again.

Oscar and Charley guarded the train set from then on. You never know your luck in a big city they thought. The mouse railway adventure was fun! A good thing that we moved out shortly thereafter. I'm not good with mice.

Copyright © Ali Cassel
March 9, 2001