Cat and Mouse

In addition to the sadness of losing one of the very best cats in the entire world this summer, this evening I ventured out to the duckhouse to do some animal husbandry, only to discover the evidence of a pack rat, squirreling away (ratting away?) corn kernels which are meant for the ducks. Not the field mice, not the pack rats.

After we lost Euripides (we know not how, and although my hope does indeed spring eternal that one day he will waltz right in our back door as he was wont to do on his whim, we suspect the coyotes from the river must have caught him. I prefer not to dwell on the hows of Ripsy's disappearance.), I told that Spouse o' Mine that I could not take any more heartache with animals just now. Just a month or so before Euripides went missing, I had to put down our last horse. There is nothing easy or clean-cut about that. It is as heart-wrenching as it gets.

Now the nights are getting cooler - cold, in fact.
And I am seeing the telltale signs that in addition to one great cat,
we are missing a great mouser.

Yes, we have a geriatric house cat, and a 20-lb grotto cat who couldn't, I don't think, chase a mouse further than 10 yards.

And therein lies the quandary.

That Spouse o' Mine wants a mouser. If I could be sure that I wouldn't love the mouser and it wouldn't die or disappear on me, I would acquiesce.

So. We have a rural-living quandary to deal with...