It all goes back to 1 am this morning. The hubby and I are woken up by unusual meows coming from the fuzzy kitty beast. Hubby checks on her, but she seems fine, and nothing seems out of the ordinary; so we go back to sleep. Several hours later, we do our morning routine--I feed the animals, hubby gets ready--and it's not until after he leaves for work that I see the cause of the early morning outburst.
Yep, it's a mouse.
And Ethel wants to eat it.
Long story short, after a few failed attempts at trying to catch the mouse in a paper bag (hey, it was closest to me at the time . . . don't judge me), I finally find the humane trap. At this point, Ethel has the poor thing cornered. So I exploit the situation and swoop in with the trap, luring the little guy out with some tasty peanut butter. Now the teeny-weeny beast roams free in the shrubbery behind our apartment.
I love a happy ending.
But I think Ethel disagrees.