“Cats! What are they good for? Absolutely nothing. Say it again”

(With a nod to Edwin Starr for his song, “War! What is it good for ……….”)

La D was preparing a salad for us the other day and she went to get the salad spinner that we have. You know the sort of thing. It has a plastic basket into which you put lettuce, wash it and put into a slightly larger container. You then put on a special lid, spin the basket and it throws off the water and dirt from the lettuce.

She brought it from the pantry and into the kitchen and lifted the lid. There was then a piercing shriek from La D as a small furry rodent jumped out of the spinner and scurried across the top towards the sink.

“Oh my God. Oh my God. It’s a mouse!” she exclaimed. Now, I hadn’t actually seen the event but when La D uses her vocal chords at this pitch and intensity, it is a foolish person who doesn’t respond within a nano second to her cries.

“Where did it go?” I asked.

“I don’t bloody know and I don’t care. Just get rid of it. NOW!” I was ordered as La D went into the living room and shut the door hastily.

At this time we had the two kittens we were looking after for their new owners. As they had been kept inside, we thought we should do the same for the two weeks we were having them. They were in the kitchen with me so I had strength on side to capture the little sod who had had the effrontery to extract me from my reverie of whatever I was doing at the time I received La D’s summons.

I finally saw it under the cooker. On my hands and knees I used a long pasta rolling pin to try and push it out. It worked. The mouse shot out and tried to get under the back door. At this point one of the cats saw and jumped at it. He managed to grab it but too loosely and the mouse scrabbled away. However, it seemed to me, it dawned on the kitten that this was the sort of thing it was put on this earth to do. Get rid of mice. He dashed after it and this time got a good hold. The mouse had been captured.

“It’s OK La D. Marlon has caught it.” I shouted through the door. Perhaps I should explain about Marlon’s owners naming convention. They have a dog called Brando. They wanted a cat, a male cat, so they could call it Marlon. With me so far?

When they saw the kittens they fell in love with another one so took two of them. The little female they took was to be called Sophia. After a little while, they knew we had had some more kittens and asked if they could have a third one. Mad, I know.

Guess what they were going to call it? Yep, Loren. You just don’t mess with other peoples’ naming conventions, especially if they relieve you of unwanted kittens, no matter how bizarre you may think them.

Anyway, back to the story. Marlon had this mouse firmly in his mouth with the mouse’s tail hanging down. The mouse was no longer. It had passed, as they say. I managed to put my foot on the tail and gradually moved my foot neared Marlon’s mouth so in the end he had to relinquish his catch. I was able to put a container over the mouse, and no, it wasn’t the salad spinner, put some card underneath and take the wretched little rodent and chuck it over the hedge. A little undignified I appreciate but I didn’t see anybody clamouring for a proper funeral.

La D came out of the sitting room, fairly cautiously I should add. We both gave Marlon a lot of attention as he definitely deserved it.

Now the point about the title of this tale is that we regularly feed 5 to 6 cats and not one of them had prevented our house from being invaded by vermin! So what is the use of having the blighters?

Ciao, mantenere la fede