Tom and Jerry

Make that Thomasina. The church cat is no stranger to the maternity ward and at least two litters of kittens have scampered around the environs of the parish house. She must be particularly well fed, because her ample, rounded belly caused me to tell our priest that she looked rather pregnant. His reaction was an alarmed, ‘No, no it isn’t possible. She’s been operated.’ But he did hazard a furtive second glance in passing. Time will tell!

She was sitting in the church compound next to a tiny black mouse. They were eyeing each other, sizing up the situation; no aggression was indicated but there was a certain feeling of suspense in the air. The mouse moved, and the cat bounded after it, but playfully. They both sat down and faced each other. The cat patted the mouse on its nose and then looked at it. The mouse for its part began to look a little puzzled – was it intended to be breakfast or not? It could have made a break for it - there are ample bushes and ground holes in the church garden - but it seemed drawn to this unusual feline. And so they sat in silent communion (or mutual admiration?). I had no clue to the mouse’s gender; perhaps they were sisters under the skin? Or, perhaps, this was the local version of the lion and the lamb!

And to add to the general feeling of bonhomie, it is rather appropriate that my present listening is a duet by Placido Domingo and John Denver – Perhaps Love. The voices are beautiful, heartfelt, soulful (I could go on, but I won’t) and the lyrics complement my thoughts:

Perhaps love is like a resting place
A shelter from the storm
It exists to give you comfort
It is there to keep you warm
And in those times of trouble
When you are most alone
The memory of love will bring you home

Perhaps love is like a window
Perhaps an open door
It invites you to come closer
It wants to show you more
And even if you lose yourself
And don't know what to do
The memory of love will see you through

Oh, love to some is like a cloud
To some as strong as steel
For some a way of living
For some a way to feel
And some say love is holding on
And some say letting go
And some say love is everything
And some say they don't know….

A Mouse in the House

My husband is habituated to telling me that I can be, on occasion, incredibly brilliant and also incredibly stupid!

I once allowed the neighbour’s little son to decorate a rather prominent wall in our living room with his newly gifted ‘washable’ crayons. Needless to say, the crayons were definitely not washable and the resultant mural was rather less than Picasso-esque. Incredibly stupid? I guess so, though we did have rather a lot of fun! A subsequent monsoon caused extensive damage, requiring us to repair and paint the flat. The ‘mural’ is a long distant memory and the little boy is now a grown man with other talents to boast of.

Which brings me to the mouse. While I can murderously squash flies and mosquitoes, and scream the house down at the sight of a cockroach, I can ‘talk’ to the lizards and the mice with equanimity. A negligible gift, I agree, but one that can engender little doses of humour.

I was deep in a book while sitting with my back to the TV, when I heard a scrunching, whispering sound. The TV was off at the time and the book was so interesting that it took me a little while to realise that something was out of place. I glanced up and spotted a mouse. It was dragging strips of paper picked up from an open carton full of packing material, which was awaiting disposal, and tugging them into the back of the TV! Each trip involved hopping down from the unit, scampering across to the carton near the front door, grabbing a strip in its teeth, tugging it out of the tangle, climbing out of the carton and up to the television. I was fascinated.

I called out to my husband to ‘come and see’. The explosion was instantaneous, ‘Are you nuts?!!!!’ The television was a brand new acquisition and an expensive one (for us) at that - it had been purchased by hubby for viewing the forthcoming football World Cup in full colour. But the mouse was so cute: round, brown and furry with pink ears, nose and paw tips, bright boot-button eyes and whiskers aquiver. It was a storybook illustration come alive. Cuteness notwithstanding, the technician was summoned and the mouse dishoused. A mousetrap (the wire cage kind) ensured no further incursions.

But my husband is a gentle person. He walked many a mile, trap in hand, to release the mouse in a field far, far away where it hopefully found the right kind of home. He consoled me with the thought that it would have eventually fried inside the TV!