She shouted. I ran. Not away (this time), mind you, but toward the noise.
I heard water spraying, Mummy grumbling, a mouse flew out of the shower.
What is all this, you ask? I will tell you….
I heard water spraying, Mummy grumbling, a mouse flew out of the shower.
What is all this, you ask? I will tell you….
I have a mouse.
His name is Grover.
He is covered in white fur and has a feather tail.
Of course, I have several mice but this one is my particular favorite. Grover is fun to play with, fun to chew on, and fun to drop in my crunchy bowl so I can keep an eye on him (he sometimes tries to run away, then I have to catch him and bring him back).
Grover gets dirty.
After all the tossing, chasing, chewing, and dropping-in-crunchy-bowling, Grover needs a bath.
There was this puddle in the shower. I dropped Grover in the puddle, swished him about a bit, then left him to soak and clean (pardon the pun) forgot about him - until Mummy found him, that is. When I heard her shout, I ran as fast my chubby little legs could carry me and arrived just in time to observe Grover flying through the air, trailing water droplets and not a few soap bubbles.
I was aghast, to say the least. He landed on the tile and bounced a couple of times; I ran to his side, checking him thoroughly for damages. I eyed Mummy sideways. Lucky for her, Grover appeared to be intact, if drenched. Poor Grover – it seems one could take a bath around this place without being bunged out on one’s ear. I picked Grover up and carried his sodden corpse to the water dish, deftly dunking him in it ‘cause the dismal creature needed rinsing after his ill treatment.
After staring at him for a bit in a glazed manner, pondering the atrocities of life, I nibbled on some crunchies then tottered off for a nap. Along the way, I considered - what would Mummy do if she found me lounging in a puddle?
It is too dreadful to ponder!
His name is Grover.
He is covered in white fur and has a feather tail.
Of course, I have several mice but this one is my particular favorite. Grover is fun to play with, fun to chew on, and fun to drop in my crunchy bowl so I can keep an eye on him (he sometimes tries to run away, then I have to catch him and bring him back).
Grover gets dirty.
After all the tossing, chasing, chewing, and dropping-in-crunchy-bowling, Grover needs a bath.
There was this puddle in the shower. I dropped Grover in the puddle, swished him about a bit, then left him to soak and clean (pardon the pun) forgot about him - until Mummy found him, that is. When I heard her shout, I ran as fast my chubby little legs could carry me and arrived just in time to observe Grover flying through the air, trailing water droplets and not a few soap bubbles.
I was aghast, to say the least. He landed on the tile and bounced a couple of times; I ran to his side, checking him thoroughly for damages. I eyed Mummy sideways. Lucky for her, Grover appeared to be intact, if drenched. Poor Grover – it seems one could take a bath around this place without being bunged out on one’s ear. I picked Grover up and carried his sodden corpse to the water dish, deftly dunking him in it ‘cause the dismal creature needed rinsing after his ill treatment.
After staring at him for a bit in a glazed manner, pondering the atrocities of life, I nibbled on some crunchies then tottered off for a nap. Along the way, I considered - what would Mummy do if she found me lounging in a puddle?
It is too dreadful to ponder!
He, he...you have more fun than any cat I've ever met! How do you do it? Sounds like your Mummy has her hands full keeping up with you.
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