**Updated** Bob, the anarchist
And the rest of the family...
If you are looking for the final update, scroll down to “Final Update” near the bottom.
Original Story
Bob showed up at our house about 6 weeks ago. Perfectly content to mind her (yep, her) own business, until my son found her. Unbeknownst to us, he brought Bob into our house and set her up with her own space in the basement where he spends most of his time. He shared our food with Bob, he made sure Bob was comfortable and he talked to her non-stop. He even had his cousins watching over her through Skype (is that even still a thing?) and yearning to come over to meet his new friend. You wouldn’t think any of the rest of us would be comfortable with a stranger like Bob in the house, and you’re right. You see, Bob is an anarchist.
Before we go any further, let me introduce you to anarchist #2, Honeysuckle. She’s a 15-year-old American Short Hair cat, orange, large and in charge. To say she has an attitude problem is an understatement. We got her not long after we built our prior home, where she grew fat and lazy, having decided that hunting (and the obligatory gifting to her people) was for suckers. Our other cat, Milo (a girl - named after the cat in the movie Milo and Otis), was smart and fast. She hunted. She gifted. She understood words and commands, more like a dog. After she passed away from cancer, we all turned our adoration onto Honeysuckle, but ick, she wanted none of it. Again, anarchist.
Credit: L. Rhoades - Honeysuckle
Back to Bob. After a couple of weeks in paradise, she started making trouble. After all Seth had done for her - giving her food, shelter, warmth, and a home?! She threw off the trappings of civilization and started ripping around the basement causing chaos. It took him a bit to notice just how much trouble until he finally realized she had escaped her cage. He had no idea (although his cousin Gannon told him it would happen) she’d chewed through the plastic bin he rigged up. Hello! Bob is a 2 x 1-inch common field mouse. Bob is OVER being inside a house. She’s over being led. She’s over being confined. She’s an anarchist! Let me explain how I know she’s an anarchist.
We have two recliners in a glamping pod we use as a bit of a sauna room to catch sun over the winter. I don’t recall which prior pet did it, but one of our dogs years ago chewed up the seat of the chair we rocked Seth in as a baby. The other chair was a second hander and the MOST comfortable, huge recliner I’ve ever seen. When I saw the fluff Bob used for a nest in the outdoor cabinet where Seth found her, I assumed she stole it from the torn seat. But she didn’t. I discovered last weekend that Bob chewed threw the top of the back of the big comfy rocker, just a tiny hole, and stole the fluff from it. See - her anarchist tendencies became obvious to me, in hindsight, when I realized she poo-pooed the perfectly good fluff from the ripped chair in favor of the best chair ever!
After she chewed her way out, Seth gave up on her. He thought she was long gone when she showed up about 10 days after her escape, which he and anarchist #3, my hubby, decided I should not be made aware of. Seth and Honeysuckle (the non-hunter?) started herding her into a jar to return her to a new cage. When Seth realized a few days later that she was having problems with the bedding in her cage, he decided to let her go back outside. While transferring her to a jar to release her, she escaped him again.
When we moved a few years ago, we had to leave Honeysuckle at the old house for just a few days until we came back for the final load of stuff. She took a couple months to get over it and that summer - BOOM - she began hunting everything that moves in our wooded back yard. That threw us for a loop, cause, not a hunter… She even brought a mouse up to the mat outside the glass door and waited for me to see her then ate the head right off of the thing. Which brings us back to Bob.
Credit: Pro Active Pest Control
Honeysuckle, at 15 mind you, jumped right into the hunt with Seth apparently a couple days ago. She chased Bob all over the basement until they made their way to the first floor and Honeysuckle batted Bob down a heater vent - a heater vent to nowhere. This particular heater vent is not connected into the floor at the vent opening, so the mouse fell down into a small space in the subfloor that drops the entire way down between the drywall of the finished basement and the foundation of the house itself. When I returned from my Tuesday craft night at my sister’s, I was surprised to see foam board across this vent with two ‘rescue’ strings draped from the top edge down into this vast (from Bob’s perspective) crevasse. I, anarchist #4, immediately asked “did that mouse escape?!!” “Yes”, said Seth. We had a “spirited debate” (no blood, I promise) about how to lure her out and he’s settled on some food and water under a box which is over the vent but propped up enough for Bob to escape it - the theory being he and Honeysuckle will get her again and release her to the wild.
I am about to head to dreamland, after wedging something in the crack under my bedroom door to block what will certainly be an exploratory Bob in the wee hours of the morning. Being anarchist #4, I unconventionally go to sleep by 9-ish EVERY night (sleep is the elixir of life) but couldn’t wait until morning to get this on paper. I promise to provide a short update in the coming days. Happy hunting to all, and to all a good night.
Final Update
Wednesday, March 6
Bob’s been found, floating in Honeysuckle’s water bowl. Wait for it, my son says, “her legs moved when I picked her up, so I have her in a (plastic - really?!!) fish tank to see if she’s coming back to life.” I say, “absolutely not put her outside!” Him, “But, something will eat her.” Me, “Keep her in the tank outside until you see what happens”. Him, “No, I’m waiting to see.” Me, “Get rid of that mouse. If it comes back to life you’re putting it outside. If it’s dead, you’re putting it outside. All roads lead back outside, so get her out of the house.” Him, “No.”
Have I mentioned this is my stubborn son? When he was 3 years old, he wanted a ship in the tub - a huge (stood on its end, was almost as tall as me) aircraft carrier we found at a secondhand store. I said no and went to get his clothes for him. When I came back, he was in the tub WITH THE SHIP waiting for me to add water. At that point hubby and I felt he’d grow up to be a hostage negotiator for the government and he did, but just for our 6-being anarchist colony at the moment.
Today, March 7
Seth found me this afternoon to tell me that Bob has left the building. She is, in fact, deceased. Funny thing about this though, he actually went to the animal care center at the end of our country road to ask them why he couldn’t bring her back. When he explained that her legs moved when he retrieved her from the water, they said she was possibly alive at that time. They told him with mice if you catch it soon enough (within 30 minutes) they might come back. Not sure how this would happen since we don’t have teeny tiny resuscitation equipment on hand. Since he thought she ‘found the water dish’ yesterday around 2:00 a.m., his finding her the next mid-morning was too late. It is just more points on his ‘stubbornness’ scale that he took the time to find out. Alas, he has returned her to the outdoor cabinet where he originally found her. May she rest in peace (somewhere else, the first chance I get).
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