Tonks and Luna chase each other every evening. It's a game of tag that starts at 8pm sharp (well, 7pm sharp since DST) and lasts at least an hour. It is cute and adorable and annoying.
This evening as I listened to them chase each other through the house, I could tell something was different, something was off. At one point, Luna sat in the middle of the living room with her mouse toy in her mouth, taunting Tonks that she was losing the game of "keep-away." And then, the mouse moved.
THE MOUSE MOVED!!!
THIS WAS NO TOY MOUSE!!! LUNA HAD A LIVE, MOVING MOUSE IN HER FREAKING CAT-JAWS-OF-TERROR!!!
To say that I screamed would be an understatement. The sound that echoed from the depths of my being was a guttural cry of fear, rage and freaked-the-fucked-outed-ness.
Luna immediately RAN AWAY WITH THE MOUSE!!! I jumped off the couch and chased her down the hall to my bedroom. She was on MY bed PLAYING with the mortally wounded mouse. WHAT. THE. FUCK?!? When she saw me, she grabbed the twitching mouse and ran back down the hall. Asshole. I chase her back to the living room, all the while screaming non-sense at the top of my lungs. I just wanted her to DROP THE MOUSE!!! I chased her around the living room and at one point threw a Kleenex box at her, hoping it would get her to DROP THE DAMN MOUSE!!!
I should note here, that Tonks just sat on the kitchen table watching all of this unfold. Tonks knows when I scream like that, I mean business. Tonks would have handed me the mouse on a freaking silver platter. TONKS IS MY FAVORITE.
I chased that bitch Luna back down the hall to my bedroom, screaming that PETS DON'T GET TO HAVE THEIR OWN PETS, where she had taken up shelter UNDER MY BED. My worst nightmare. I had no way of actually grabbing her. Now, under my bed I have storage boxes of shoes (it's an addiction problem, don't ask) and I started hurtling them towards her, trying to get her to come out from under the bed, screaming at her to DROP THE FUCKING MOUSE RIGHT NOW YOU STUPID CAT!!! And the next thing you know, a mouse comes flying out from under the bed and hits me in the knee.
You know what happens next. I screamed bloody-murder again. I was so relieved Luna had given up the stupid mouse, and then it dawned on me - I HAD TO DO SOMETHING WITH THE MOUSE!!!
I grabbed the closest thing to me, which was a pair of dirty underwear from the clothes hamper and threw them on the still twitching body of the mouse. Now, anyone who has grown up in the country would probably tell me I should have put the mouse out of it's misery. I just didn't have it in me. I ran that little twitching mouse body straight to the trash and took it out to the bin as fast as my chubby legs would carry me. I was out of breath and full of adrenalin. I screamed the entire time. Not even kidding.
As I came back in and shut the door, my house was oddly quiet. First, there was no one screaming. Also, my chest wall was killing me as I had not moved that fast since my car accident. And Tonks was judging me from the kitchen table. In my calmest voice, I called out, "Good job, Luna! Nice job catching the mouse for mommy!" No response.
It is now 45 minutes since what shall be known from here on out as "The Great Mouse Murder of 2013" and my painkillers are kicking in and my breathing is returning to normal. Luna refuses to acknowledge my existence. I suppose I would be pissed if someone took away my favorite new toy. While it's nice to know Luna's hunting instincts are intact, I really need her to be normal and just plop the mortally injured mouse at my feet. She needs to understand that when it comes to mice, I will always win.
(I actually wrote this yesterday, shortly after The Great Mouse Murder of 2013 occurred, but since I had already written my NaBloPoMo for Wednesday, I saved it to post today. If you are wondering, Luna is still pissed at me.)