The Continuing Adventures of the Minou: Foiled!

For those of you who read this blog on a regular basis, i.e. my parents and Ptichka's mum, the escapades of RZA/Mouchie/Minou in the Land of Killing Small Things are nothing new. She has brought us the first robin of spring, countless sparrows, a couple of chicakdees, and two live mice. Yesterday morning she was at the top of the stairs with her face to the ground. I assumed that she was eating something so I opened the door to let her in. Her head whipped up, she eyed the open door, bent over, picked something up, and bounded down the steps. As she reached the landing, it registered that she had a mouse in her mouth. She was carrying it like a dog carries a stick, cross-wise. Normally she half-swallows the mouse so that only the hind legs and tail are sticking out of her mouth. Instead of shrieking, I slammed the door in Mouchie's face. She dropped the mouse and began pawing the door in indignation. I smacked the door to scare her off and then peered through it (the front door is, well, glass because my landlord has some, well, design issues) at her offering. It looked like someone's pet mouse. It was small and white and stiff. Either it had frozen to death or it had been dead for a while. I could see Mouchie bounding up the driveway, so I showed Ptichka the mouse and grabbed a plastic bag, which I had conveniently left somewhere I shouldn't have. I then opened the door and picked up the mouse by the tail. It had frozen to death because the tail started to thaw and go limp in my hand. I placed it in the baggy and examined it. There were no visible signs of struggle on its tiny little body. Mouchie hadn't even killed her gift for us. I walked over to the green bin in the back yard, now followed by Mouchie who was, well, pissed, opened the bin, and dropped the wee little mousey inside. I then bent over and pet the cat, telling her that she was the best thing to happen to me since ever. And since she can't understand me, I also told her that she'd better not try to bring anymore dead beasts into the house. We have a carpet now and it cannot get ruined by bird guts. I mean, she doesn't even have an allowance out of which we could deduct the cost of the rug.