Yesterday, I walked into my home to find a decapitated, very dead mouse on a rug near the door to our patio. Inside.

Evidently, Luke Skywalker (can you tell the boys named him?) the cat found a treasure and during our hustle and bustle to get out the door by 7:30 in the morning, no one noticed that there was a mouse in his jowls when he re-entered our home right before we left for school.

Within moments I am disgusted because I abhor rodents of any kind. I cannot stand mice, rats, gerbils, guinea pigs . . . anything with claws, creepy teeth and bony tails makes me want to go fetal in the corner. I can handle snakes and spiders but if a rodent is near . . . oh, the thought just makes me shudder.

As I scooped up the rug to dispose of said mouse by throwing it over our fence, I noticed our teenaged neighbor climbing the tree in the very area where I was going to fling the mouse corpse.

When I asked her what she was doing, she explained that a dog in the neighborhood had chased another neighbor’s cat to the top of the very tall tree and was stuck, crying out for help.

I listened as I held the decapitated rodent in our rug (and yes, as a matter of fact, this is the most eloquent sentence I’ve ever written).

To add to the drama, the poor girl had been sent home because she was sick. The mother in me wanted her to go home and get in bed so I call the fire station because aren’t fire stations supposed to help cats get down from tall trees? That’s how they do it in the movies for crying out loud.

I’m fairly certain I heard the nice fireman suppress laughter when I asked if they rescued cats from tall trees. He politely told me to call animal control and I thanked him for not outright laughing even though I knew he wanted to. With that, he let it all out and wished me luck.

When I called animal control, I’m pretty sure the woman I spoke with also thought I was nuts to even ask what to do about a cat in a tall tree who couldn’t get down.

“Here’s what you do,” she stated, very matter-of-factly making me feel a little bit like Cher from the movie Clueless (and might I add, I made myself feel this way – she was as sweet as pie).

“Everyone just leave her alone. Don’t let any other animals near her. Give her time and eventually, she’ll make it down on her own,” she instructed.

Just to give you more of a visual, I should also mention that to add to the chaos of the dead mouse and the cat in a very tall tree, our lawn was being aerated and no one could hear each other even if we were shouting at the top of our lungs.

When he noticed the girl and I were using sign language, he turned off the very loud machine and I told our sweet neighbor the plan.

Boots in tree

I checked on the cat periodically and noticed that she moved a little lower each time. By the time I returned from my run, she was gone.

So why on earth would I find a joy unspeakable in a dead mouse and a cat in a tall tree?

Because this is how I feel sometimes, too. Sometimes I find myself stuck in a really tall tree and before I know it, I have no idea how to get down.

I’m overwhelmed and I want to throw stuff and blame other people for chasing me up the tree but in the end, I have only myself to blame.

If I’m ever going to get down from the top of the tree, I need everyone to leave me alone for a bit and work my way down slowly and at my own pace.

That cat and I . . . we are kindred spirits. I might become the crazy cat lady after all. We “get” each other.

But I will never “get” mice . . .

What’s a joy unspeakable you’ve experienced this week?


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