Our Great Ginger Hunter caught in a rare moment of relaxation.
A couple of hours ago Sal came in through the cat door warbling like a lark. He was talking with a mouthful of mouse. The great ginger hunter he is not. He has killed one mouse in his life and that was by accident and he nearly scared himself to death when he did it.
He didn't have that problem this time, because not only was this mouse still alive, it didn't even appear to have its fur ruffled. He set it on the floor and it took off like a bullet. He chased it all over the house. He has picked it up and carried it around, he has patted it, he has leapt in wild and crazy circles around it as it ran. It has hidden in inaccessible spots several times, and then ventured out to become a very unwilling participant in this game of cat and mouse. At one point Sal temporarily lost the mouse when it ran under him and took refuge under his belly. And once he sat down on it (poor thing! I told you Sal is not a hunter.)
And two hours later, while I have driven myself to distraction trying to catch it so I can take it outside, the little mouse is still as frisky and agile as ever. (I think it's hiding under my chair at the moment.) The bleeding useless cat is poking around in the corners, trying to figure out where his mouse has hidden this time.
Cats are supposed to keep the house mouse-free. Sal didn't read the contract, or he misunderstood the principle. The cat is not supposed to bring the mouse to the house.