I originally wrote this story in February 2005.
So, the cats really do love me.
As I was showering this morning, I heard the cats growling. Now, they growl pretty often at each other in play. But this was really loud. So loud that I shut off the shower to see if they were really growling or if it was in fact the furnace doing something crazy to alert me it was about to explode. When I got out they stopped growling and Mencken walked out of the bathroom.
Rinsed off, put on my glasses and a towel, went into the bedroom to dress.
Mencken is on the bed with his mousey. "Oh, Mencken," I say. "You've done a number on that mousey. It looks like he's falling apart. We should throw that one away and get you a new one from the stash."
I put out a finger to check the damage. Huh. This isn't fluff falling out. Those are REAL MOUSE CLAWS!
I shriek and shiver. I jump.
Mencken is really pleased with his mousey. He proceeds to try and beat it up a little more.
"Ack, NO!" I cry, afraid of disembowelment and blood and severed heads in the am.
I toss him in the red room and shut the door. Cain is now looking at the mousey that Mencken had been hogging and proceeds to take over where I had interrupted.
"Stop it!" I pick him up, go to the bathroom and get the largest wad of toilet paper ever. After several attempts I pick up the mouse by its tail and carry it down to the trash. I put the trash out on the back porch.
Yes, I realize that habit helped contribute to this mess.
I feed the cats, free Mencken, give him some praise.
Murder Inc. is in the house. Sugar Cain and Mouser Mencken. I feel like a gun moll. I need a cocktail ring, a martini glass, and a little necklace of their kills.