Many of you have heard me talk about my Covid kitten, Boo. Some say he has an attitude, but I’m thinking it’s just a superior level of confidence.

Boo thinks he’s quite the hunter, preying on unsuspecting birds as they collect seeds on the ground, dropped from the bird feeder. He sits on the porch waiting for his chance. Just like any other cat, he feels the need to place his victim in front of the door so we can’t help but see. I nicely remind him that I’d rather he catch a mouse or mole. One day, Boo had a baby bunny cornered on the patio and I was able to set the fur baby back in the yard (the bunny, not Boo). I scolded him and think I set him straight.

So now, it’s winter and Boo is trying to prove himself as a mouse hunter. Typically, he’s not allowed on the counters or tables, but since it got cold outside, he “pretends” to stalk mice from the countertop. He insists he has to hang out there so he can have an advantage over his adversary, Mickey, the mouse, and I’m a sucker for his logic.

One afternoon, I was working on my laptop in the dining room when I heard a crash in the kitchen. I figured he’d pounced on Mickey. I got up to find him with the mouse in front of the fireplace. Exhibit A below:

I praised Boo for his persistence and skill and the Wall Street Journal’s part in the crime was not lost on me, considering the condition of my portfolio. I walked into the kitchen to scope out whatever mess there was to clean up from the loud crash, but there was nothing out of place. So strange because I heard the commotion and sound of something hitting the floor… I looked up to the top of the refrigerator (where Boo and I both had heard the mouse scrounging around), but again, nothing looked amiss. I shrugged and went back to my laptop.

The next day, I was in the kitchen and reached up on top of the fridge, and guess what? There were pawprints of sorts at the top of the refrigerator door. See Exhibit B below:

Now, how do I know these are fresh pawprints, your Honor? Because I had just polished the stainless fridge the day before and there were no prints. Anyone that knows me, would testify that I don’t do housework all that often, and I would definitely remember cleaning the fridge.

So, my Boo is the mouse slayer champion in our neighborhood. I haven’t actually polled the neighbors, but he swears it’s the truth and I believe him.

The way I calculate things according to this cartoon, Boo owes me at least $125, and the top of the refrigerator is definitely a perk and worth the upcharge. However, he disagrees stating that he can jump as high as needed to capture whatever there might be with no need to spend the night on top of the fridge. I guess he’s patrolling the countertops until spring. Large and in charge. That’s my Boo.

Okay, so I thought I was finished with this blog until I came home the next day. Boo was on the counter stalking again. I looked up to the top of the fridge to find a bag of crackers that had been broken into by a mouse (they left a telltale sign of ripping open the plastic). When I walked back into the kitchen, Boo had decided to extend his reservation on the top of the fridge.

I went about my normal routine and reached in the sink to grab the sponge to wipe the counter. Imagine my surprise when I looked down to find Mickey laying there circling the drain.

Boo’s room rate has been reduced to one mouse a day.