Miss Mickey should be ‘Pet of the Week’

February 1, 2018


Here is a story for your pet of the week page or other space in your newspaper.

I love the wildlife here in my hilltop home in Harrison. Being here some twenty years with my Maine coon cat, Miss Mickey who is over seventeen years old, now a retiree, such as I am.

Now she is a beautiful cat. Sitting in her hunting chair on top of her domain, her realm, Mickey the mouser is her informal name. She was born in the year 2000. A baby I could hold in the palm of my hand, given to me by way of a friend in Lansing where we used to build cars for Generous Motors Corporation.

I trained up Miss Mickey well, nurturing her over the years. How to stay away from vehicles, making her own door in the downstairs bathroom area of our home with a Velcro latch!

I taught her how to open with her claw and let herself out to go under the foundation of our home, out a vent opening to do as she wills outside and come back into the house whenever she wills on her own.

Oh, the surprises she has brought to me over the years, from anything that walks, crawls runs or flies.

A very skilled apt huntress she is. Now here is the thing the difference between domestic cats and wild cats. Miss Mickey knows how to capture and kill her prey, though she does not know how to eat them, as wildcats do.

She brings them to her surrogate mother, that I am. I will ever remember some years ago, she while I was sleeping, put three dead chipmunks in a nice neat row under a wooden table. I was surprised to find though we are not pretty rodent eaters. Quite a catch.

Squirrels are too fast to catch.

Birds sometimes are caught by her, snakes too. I have witnessed chipmunks she has put into the downstairs bathtub to exterminate. They can’t get out of the tub it’s too slippery. So she bats them knowing, like a baseball player until they run out of energy and euthanizes them with sharp teeth.

At one point in time, I witnessed Miss Mickey in the bathtub torturing a chipmunk. Now, now do not hold it against her, it is only sport, one chip-monkey as I call them.

At one point in time stood straight up on its hind legs and bit Miss Mickey on her nose. Drawing a little blood. I scooped up the chip-monkey and dropped it outside to perhaps, maybe live another day.

Cats are like little tigers, any species of cats from the roaring lion, king of the beasts, to any small house cat or big one.

They all think the same way. A cat is a cat, is a cat.

Dogs are impounded. Not allowed to roam unsupervised, though cats are forever free. Much more intelligent they are than stupid cars and their stupid owners I have found to be forever true.

Case in point of fact, my Maine coon cat Miss Mickey caught a black flying bat. A mouse with wings I found dead at the front door some years ago.
Because she is as stealthy as a B2 Bomber, and a 117 Jet Fighter. Amen, so be it.

Richard Bancroft

P.S. I taught Miss Mickey dog tricks. Sitting pretty for a treat to eat. I taught her how to speak English Such words as “yeah” and “I love you momma”, and she would help me keep warm at night while I was sleeping. She would drape herself over my legs, lay close to me at times. Sometimes laying her head right in the palm of my hand.

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