Real good mouse hunters.

I have a fear that a mouse has taken up residence in my (very small) apartment. I don't know why the size of my apartment factors into my fear, but it does. I feel like if my apartment were bigger, I could more easily pretend there wasn't possibly a rodent under the kitchen sink. But Chicken is telling me otherwise.

Out of the blue on Monday she became terrified of the kitchen, which is unfortunate for her because that's where her food dish is. She stalks the kitchen, hair raised. If you so much as say "boo" while she's staring wild-eyed at the unknown, you'll lose an eye.

She is not happy about whatever lurks under the kitchen sink. In turn, I am also not happy because I don't do mice.

Let me try and paint a picture: there is a gap under the cabinets under the kitchen sink that reaches into an abyss of scary apartment black hole. I do not know where it goes. I assume it leads to the interior of the walls and into the belly of my ancient building.

I do not know.

But Chicken knows.


Like, she won't even go near her water dish, which is only adjacent to the kitchen. She tip-toes to the litter box, which is even further away. If she accidentally catches herself IN the kitchen, she'll die. True story. And she just stares under the cabinets into the abyss, slightly crouched, ready to bolt.

Harley, of course, pays no attention. And if there were a mouse, she'd probably invite it over for drinks. Chicken is not so friendly. Or sociable. Chicken does not eat the mouse, the mouse eats her. Or so she would have you convinced, anyway, the way she behaves.

I am only assuming it is a mouse that is lurking in the darkness. It could be nothing. Or it could be the one-armed man. Hell, I don't know. Knowing Chicken, it's nothing.

However, if it turns out there is a mouse in my apartment, and I find evidence, I'll be the one screaming her lungs out.