Hexapuma, For the Win!
Saturday, November 22nd, 2008 11:28 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
rolanniIt having been a stressful week (hah!), I thought a brisk game of Flying Mouse with Mozart might be in order before I got with Fledgling. Scrabble was catting the co-pilot's chair in Steve's office and Hex was...elsewhere, so I figured it would just be Mo and me.
...which it was, for the first two or three passes, then Hex exploded out of nowhere, threw himself between Mozart and the Flying Mouse at a height of at least a foot off the floor, captured the prize, and -- fled.
Mozart and I play a gentleman's game of Flying Mouse -- I wave the flexy wand, the mouse flies, Mozart captures, shakes, and releases, which is my cue to make with the flexy wand again.
Hexapuma apparently subscribes to the philosopy that one keeps what one kills. The mouse was his; he'd caught it fair and square, and he wasn't giving it back. He dragged the flexy wand out of my hand and made for the back of the kitchen, mouse gripped firmly in his jaws, wand dragging after. I caught him and tried to persuade him to drop the mouse -- no go. I carried him, the mouse and the wand to the bedroom, put him on the bed and gave him a full-body massage, on the theory that he would relax his grip. Silly me. Steve tried. No go. Hex slipped off the bed and fled down the hall, where he had a brief encounter with Mozart, who whapped him a good one on the head, clearly encouraging him to stop acting like a damnfool.
Despite this excellent advice, Hex opted for damnfool, and dragged the mouse (with the string and the wand trailing behind) under the kitchen table. At this point, Steve and I grew concerned that he had somehow actually gotten his teeth stuck in the furry mouse-body, and knelt down next to him to try to figure out if this was so, getting a warn-away for our trouble. He fled to the back of the living room, where he -- dropped the mouse. I stepped forward quickly and picked Hex up; Steve picked up the wand and hung it away.
Hex now lies, exhausted but victorious, on the file box at my knee. Mozart is asleep on his (formerly my) rocker. Outside, it's cold and blowing hard, with little spits of snow riding the back of the wind.
...which it was, for the first two or three passes, then Hex exploded out of nowhere, threw himself between Mozart and the Flying Mouse at a height of at least a foot off the floor, captured the prize, and -- fled.
Mozart and I play a gentleman's game of Flying Mouse -- I wave the flexy wand, the mouse flies, Mozart captures, shakes, and releases, which is my cue to make with the flexy wand again.
Hexapuma apparently subscribes to the philosopy that one keeps what one kills. The mouse was his; he'd caught it fair and square, and he wasn't giving it back. He dragged the flexy wand out of my hand and made for the back of the kitchen, mouse gripped firmly in his jaws, wand dragging after. I caught him and tried to persuade him to drop the mouse -- no go. I carried him, the mouse and the wand to the bedroom, put him on the bed and gave him a full-body massage, on the theory that he would relax his grip. Silly me. Steve tried. No go. Hex slipped off the bed and fled down the hall, where he had a brief encounter with Mozart, who whapped him a good one on the head, clearly encouraging him to stop acting like a damnfool.
Despite this excellent advice, Hex opted for damnfool, and dragged the mouse (with the string and the wand trailing behind) under the kitchen table. At this point, Steve and I grew concerned that he had somehow actually gotten his teeth stuck in the furry mouse-body, and knelt down next to him to try to figure out if this was so, getting a warn-away for our trouble. He fled to the back of the living room, where he -- dropped the mouse. I stepped forward quickly and picked Hex up; Steve picked up the wand and hung it away.
Hex now lies, exhausted but victorious, on the file box at my knee. Mozart is asleep on his (formerly my) rocker. Outside, it's cold and blowing hard, with little spits of snow riding the back of the wind.
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Date: 2008-11-22 04:51 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-11-22 05:19 pm (UTC)Beware.