Sky is my miserable cat, and Monty is the name I’ve just given to the cute little mouse she’d not long brought into the kitchen. I called him Monty the moment I first set eyes on him and I think it’s because the name starts with an M, which is the first letter of mouse obviously; and I was watching a repeat of ‘Gardeners World’ on the TV at the time, which is hosted by my secret crush ‘Monty Don’, who just so happens to love the great outdoors, as does the mouse.
Sky, my cat, is a professional mouser! She is very good at it, to be honest, and my neighbours think she’s great. It doesn’t sit well with me at all, mainly because I just really like mice. So the cat scientists inform us that the presentation to their owner of a small rodent is a sign of devotion and love. A gift of thanks for their meals, moodiness and tickles under the chin. My reaction was not one of pleasure; I was shocked and told her off in no uncertain terms.
“Sky, put Monty down right now!” I said.
Obviously, she didn’t know what the hell I was talking about so I grabbed her and Monty, who she thankfully dropped, and I put her in the sitting room. She was not best pleased. Little Monty just sat there looking at me with his gorgeous tiny little eyes, and his body was shaking poor thing. We shared a few moments enjoying our new found friendship, he twitched his minikin nose and then he scampered under the radiator. Now, what was I to do?
I knew if I let my cat back into the kitchen it would be like watching an episode of ‘Tom and Jerry’. This was not going to happen. I cannot believe how fast mice are when they run, and as I reached out to him he shot out of the back door as fast as lightning.
I know I’m interfering with nature, but I cannot let my cat hurt a mouse if I have anything to do with it. She has 3 square meals a day and doesn’t need the extra nourishment.
I hope he’s now free to live another day.
X Pip (Monty’s Mate)