Less Puss In Boots – More Mouse In Crocs!

Hi All

I have been reluctant to report on how well Chea, the ‘nest raiding’ puss, is behaving these days because I firmly believe that once I shout it out to the world she will instantly prove me wrong . So, I’m going to whisper this …she hasn’t, to my knowledge, raided a robin’s nest this year and returned home with her cache of fledglings. However…

This week she has changed her prey of preference – or is it just availability? – to the humble field mouse.

I ventured to look up from the laptop on Monday morning and there, before my eyes was Chea, on the other side of the patio doors, scuttling round the shoe rack and Richard’s Crocs that he had left on the floor. I know her movements and actions now. Scuttling doesn’t mean a bird. Scuttling means a rodent of some description.

Now, call me pathetic but I have a real ‘hang-up’ about approaching mice and all members of that genus. I think it’s some weird ingrained thing. I think it has something to do with the fact that I could make matters worse. If I approach, and the mouse makes a break for it, and Chea takes advantage of that and catches it and kills it, then the poor creature’s demise is down to me. Also, it might run across my toes!

Like the worst person on the planet I watched from the safety of the kitchen and saw the mouse break cover. Chea pounced – and the mouse ran into one of Richard’s Crocs. Chea ran ten circles around the shoe before coming to a halt at the toe. I could see the mouse’s little nose pushing forward through one of the Crocs holes at the front as it tried to squeeze its body through it. Chea sat waiting licking her lips and flexing her claws. This obviously wasn’t the most intelligent mouse. Forward, through the toe of the shoe into Chea’s waiting clutches was not the way to go.

Like old Butch Cassidy and Sundance, racing out only to be gunned down, I left the security of the kitchen and blundered out on tiptoe and grabbed Chea. She was most unimpressed and continued to strut back and forth, back and forth, across the patio doors for a good ten minutes.

After an hour the mouse was still pressed into the Croc, its little nose shoved hard into the hole at the toe, still considering that as a means of escape. Richard would be home soon and I had this awful vision of me being in the loo, him coming in, going straight out the back door, slipping his feet into the Crocs to go up the garden to look for me (thinking I was out there) and squashing the poor mouse, so I locked the back doors and kept the key on my person.

Five minutes before Richard walked in the mouse was still there. As he entered the house I yelled, ‘There’s a mouse in your Croc.’ He looked slightly confused but that’s nothing new and frankly, the day he stops looking confused is the day I’ll worry. We scurried to the door and he, like the Great White Hunter set about freeing the mouse. However, in those few minutes, Mr Mouse had made his own escape and there was no sign of him. Richard banged the old Crocs a bit and looked behind the shoe rack but the mouse had gone.

The following day Chea returned with a baby mouse. Dead.

The following day Chea returned with a baby mouse. Dead.

No I didn’t type that twice. Well, I did, but not by mistake.

The following day I was merrily removing the tips from the broad beans, as a swarm of blackfly were attempting to move in, when Chea came trotting down the path. Again, I knew that movement. That proud, ‘Look what I’ve got. Am I not clever? Am I not a great hunter?’

‘No Chea, you are a little shit!’

Hanging from her jaws was another baby mouse – wriggling. To be honest many of the things she brings back are still alive and live to fly, or scuttle, off to tell their loved ones about their near death experience. I was instantly pissed off. First, she’d brought back what I considered to be mummy mouse, and then, one by one – baby mouse, baby mouse and baby mouse. I threw the broad bean tips at her and she ran off, dropping the mouse who raced into the shrubbery. I caught her and put her in the house.

So …Chea 2. Gail 2.

I still can’t get the idea out of my head of slipping my foot into a gardening shoe with a mouse in it. If I ever did that I would die. Seriously. I would die. Needless to say I now upend everything and bang them hard on the floor before daring to access.

Mind you, if the mouse in Richard’s Croc had passed away, and not escaped back into the wild, I just might not have bothered telling him.

Other than mice everything else in the garden is flourishing. So much so that I have lost the garden paths beneath courgette and rhubarb leaves. Mother spiders have had bumper crops of babies and they, the baby spiders, are hatching by the thousands and floating throughout the greenhouse on tiny strands. Removing baby spiders from my hair is the daily ‘thing.’

The chucks are reasonably well and enjoy dust bathing with the sun on their feathers. In fact, everything in the garden is rosy – as long as you don’t include mice in the equation.


Take care my lovelies x

13 thoughts on “Less Puss In Boots – More Mouse In Crocs!

  1. Yes, we can relate! Our resident beastie regularly brings us presents. Live ones, that he puts by his food bowl, expecting it to wait while he has a snack. The way he searched for it afterwards is comical, but not when we have to look for it. Last week, one did hide away in a shoe by the front door. Luckily we knew from beastie behaviour that something was a foot (sorry, couldn’t help that) and managed to rescue it.
    Ever had a frog?

    Liked by 1 person

    • Chea isn’t too bad with frogs now. I think she has learnt that they make her salivate and froth? The chucks are another thing altogether and I often have to rescue frogs from their beaks by offering them something tastier in the hope that they will release the frog. It usually works. Doesn’t help having a pond in the garden! xxx


  2. No, it’s not possibly to put in a cat flap – which is a real pain in the butt because Chea wants to go out …then she wants to come in (to check if any food has miraculously appeared in her bowl) then she wants to go out …then she wants to come in (to see if any food ………) you get the picture? She drives me mad but what is a slave to do? xxx


  3. My uncle who was a large, and largely unfeeling man, once found in his shoe the remains of what had, at the start of that day, been a frog. He had worn the shoe all day without noticing…

    Liked by 1 person

  4. Gail, how come I missef this post first time aoun, i.e. when you posted it???! Be that a it may, at leasT I have now read it, my favourite blog. Funny post again. Frogs. One of our cats found ftigs on occasion. They scream!!!!

    Liked by 1 person

  5. Yes, indeed they do Evelyn. My previous chucks caught one and tore round the garden with it. The noise it made gave me nightmares for weeks …months in fact. Nature can be cruel beyond words. Re the notification …are you still receiving an email when I post? 😀


  6. When Sam, my cat, was young he was a great mouser and ratter, travelling far and wide with dead and alive rodents. I remember one day he brought a live mouse into the kitchen, and let it go because he remembered he was hungry. He caught it a day or two later. Although mice and rats look pretty, rats in particular I find fairly revolting and hate the thought of them in the house. Chea is at least saving you from getting a mouse infestation.

    Liked by 1 person

  7. This is true Geoff. Her latest “pleasure” is seeing how many times she can “pat” spiders and still leave them running. And she has a fascination for worms too. Strange cat! Hope you are well my friend? xxx 😀


  8. Yes fine thanks Gail. Chea’s behaviour reminds me of past cats I;ve had – they also liked attacking poor frogs, who would scream, but luckily they usually gave up. Hoping all well with you Gail XXX


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s