Punting A MouseRat for Yardage

After receiving Mother's Day gifts from Zane(homemade pictures are the best!), and a promissory note for a mani/pedi from Larry(he wasn't sure where I would want to go, so he left that part blank), I walked outside to find cat Zena and dog Maisy with their present for me. For those not keeping score, Zena the cat adopted Maisy the dog when Maisy was a puppy, and Zena does her very best to raise Maisy to be a good cat. Maisy was flinging said present about the yard and trying to catch it while Zena looked on approvingly, as any doting mother would do. 

And I sighed heavily and went back into the house. 

Not to hide under the kitchen table, but to get my shoes(because mouse guts on bare feet=projectile vomiting) and an oven mitt.  We've thrown many carcasses over the fence these past couple of years; Zena is an excellent mouser, and the fields behind our house are full of the critters.

I marched back out to locate the poor dead thing.  Zena was licking a paw, and pretending that she had no idea where the dead creature was, but I wasn't fooled by her feigned nonchalance.  Maisy offered to help me locate the remains, tail wagging, and escorted me right to what may have been a small rat or a large mouse.  I can never tell, so...MouseRat it is.  I leaned over to pick up the carcass just as Maisy nudged the critter with her nose...and the MouseRat ran right onto my foot. 

There's an obscure law that states that all women must scream loudly when in contact with any rodent, and I am pleased to say that I followed that law to the letter.  I also jumped and sort of punted the poor MouseRat about fifteen yards.  Puppy-brained Maisy thought that we were playing, and immediately grabbed the MouseRat and flung it downfield for twenty yards and raced after it.  She picked up the MouseRat and spiked it.  I winced as the MouseRat bounced a couple of times. 

When I finally was able to catch up to Maisy,  I just bent over the MouseRat and watched it.  There were two reasons for this: I had to catch my breath, and I wanted to make sure the MouseRat was dead.   I looked closely, and saw movement of the ribcage.  Alive, then, but likely shook up.  I slipped the oven mitt on and grabbed for the tail.  It took me a couple of tries, because I'm a girl and all girls are genetically squeamish about rodents.  I finally got the MouseRat by the tail.  It squirmed and wiggled in that completely icky way that made me want to just drop it and run.  Yet I was determined to get it out of my yard.  I  lifted MouseRat above the head of Maisy, who began jumping up and down.  She wanted me to throw the MouseRat, of course, which I would not do. At that point, Zena decided that the MouseRat was interesting again, since it was still moving about, so she made her way over to Maisy and I.

I walked as quickly as I could, holding a MouseRat by the tail above my head, with a jumping dog and a curious cat in tow.  I made it to our back fence, and found a broken slat.  I put my hand through the slat and let go of the MouseRat in a spot where it could rest a bit before heading back out into the field.  I turned, happy that I had had a successful "rescue".  Even if the MouseRat died, it would die on the other side of the fence, and not in my yard.

Sort of. 

Zena was sitting on the fence, tail twitching, her gaze zeroed in on MouseRat.  Maisy was watching Zena, ready to move.  I again sighed heavily, rolled my eyes, and grabbed Zena off the fence.  It was a chancy thing, as she did not want to go and dug her claws into the fence, but finally I was able to extricate her.  Maisy followed Zena, and into the house we went.  

This was before I'd even finished my cup of coffee!