My cat sits in the chair. I sit on the floor. I worship my cat. He’s so cool. Anything he demands, I will do. He sits there, regal, serene. How could I dare disturb him? He brought a mouse in yesterday evening, still squeaking. and lost it in my pile of stuff. He played with it for hours during the night, while I was trying to sleep, picking it up now and then, letting it think it had escaped for a while and then pouncing on it.

In the morning, all was still, except for Wizard, that’s my cat’s name, was sitting looking fixedly at my pile of stuff. I figured the mouse had crawled into one of the many crevices in my pile of stuff. See, I just moved here, so my stuff is still laying around in piles while I try to figure out where to put it all. Any way, my cat must have a soft mouth because he never finishes off his victims.

He’s a gentle little sadist.

So I‘m sitting here worshiping my cat, and he’s looking at me sublime as the buddha. Then this squeaking emits from my pile of stuff. I had heard it once before, so I had already figured out the general area. This time I followed my ear to a box of black trash bags with one bag sticking out of the slot. the mouse wasn’t in the fluffy part of the bag. Then I felt around inside the box with all the folded garbage bags. I felt a soft mouse body, still alive. I thought “You poor little thing, being terrorized by my cat for almost twenty four hours now.” I felt sorry for it. So I slipped out the door and tried to set the poor critter free. Well, being a mouse, he was scared shitless, and he jumped out of the garbage bag box before I could get it set it on the ground. The mouse lands, staggers, doesn’t look so good. I pick it up and cradle it in my hand. It struggles a little, so I wrap my fingers around it to constrain it gently. The mouse feels cold, a little bit in shock, so I breathe my breath onto it, and I apologize for the misery my cat put it through.

I'm sad to say, Wizard has passed on. He got hit by a car. He was a really cool cat.

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