Busters Friend

I have been lying here in the sun from the front window, this is my morning napping place.  I have to have at least 20 hours sleep a day.  I have been told by my masters that I am a very fine cat (a little fat?  No, just big boned.  Ha’).  But I’m a little tired today.  Last night we had another visitor, I don’t know if he had a name, but if it was up to me I would call him Sneaky, or Speedy.  Now I have nothing against mice, but I’ve been told I’m supposed catch these creatures, and there is nothing like a good chase.

The usual routine is for me to sit for hours watching a spot where maybe there might be a mouse.  Then about midnight we play the game of cat and mouse.  We run across the floor, through table legs, flip, flop here and there.  Very exciting stuff, but the problem I have is, the mouse either has a heart attack or I play with them until they die.  I keep using my paw to make them move.  But they aren’t any fun, anymore; they just won’t move.

Now, last night was different; master gave me a great big dinner of fish.  Oh, so good!!!  Thought I might catch a little shut eye.  I was sleeping away (they say I snore, but it’s really purring) when all of a sudden a mouse ran right across my full belly.  I was astounded that a mouse was that fearless.  The only problem, I was so full of fish and so sleepy.  I tried to ignore the mouse, but he was dashing here and there, just as if he were trying to get me to chase him.

So I stretched and yawned, sat up and looked around.  Might as well do a little chasing.  So around and around we went, but this was a tough old mouse; he was breathing a little hard, but looked fine.  Maybe if I take another nap he’ll go away.  He was fun, but I’m tired.  After my nap the squeaky mouse was gone.  Too bad, he was a fun mouse.

Then one day when I was out in the yard sitting on our rock wall, all of a sudden I heard some rustling in the leaves and out poked a little gray head.  Squeaky was very still, with his little beady eyes and whiskers.  I didn’t try to chase him because Squeaky is a friend and maybe some night he’ll come and play again, if I’m careful not to hurt him.

The moral of the story is:  if you are nice you can have more friends and fun.