Cat and Mouse

“What’s that?” My Man asked?

I looked in the direction he indicated, but didn’t see anything. 8 girls who were fighting it out to be America’s next top model commanded more of my attention than My Man and his mystery phantom.

“What? I don’t see anything.”

My attention returned to the fierce beauties on the small screen.

“There! There! Did you see it?”

I turned my head from the TV and stared fixedly in the direction he had previously indicated.

I’ll give him 10 seconds. If nothing, it’s back to American’s Next Top Model.

From underneath the radiator a shadow flickered. Then it scampered.

So, it’s not a phantom after all.

“That’s a mouse!”

A mouse! A mouse! In our house!

My Man's phantom was a true and veritable mouse. I lost all interest in models and fashion and clothes and entertaining cattiness. The radiator and its environs captured my complete attention.

“Where did it go?” I whispered.

“Under the radiator, I think.”

And that is how we embarked on a 2 hour game of cat and mouse.