I Smell a Mouse

The ancient Egyptians worshipped them because they kept down the mice attacking their granaries. When they died they were mummified and given as offerings to the cat goddess Bastet.


Both Bastet and Sekhmet (the lion god) originated from the lion-like god Bast, Lower Egypt adopting the cat and Upper Egypt the lion. Both gods were also gods of warfare – perhaps Lower Egypt had smaller occurrences of warfare?

I was going to worship Napoleon our head cat (in Italian “gatto mammone”) for the same reason of destroying vermin. There was some growling going on behind the wine rack yesterday afternoon and this was why:

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What to do? Let nature take its course or intervene? Cat or mouse situation? Living in the country does mean mice come in the house from time to time, especially for warmth during the winter months. I am reliably informed that even in urban settings like London there will be considerable mouse (and rat) problems.

I saw Napoleon have fun with the poor rodent and then sentimentality finally got the upper hand:

Not being able to witness the mouse’s eventual disembowelment, I managed to scoop the frightened little thing into a sweeper and was able to deposit it in a quiet part of the garden where, no doubt, it will be chased by another feline.

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I would, anyway, prefer if my cats played with these mice – at least in the house – which they do, interrupting my TV viewing since the toys are lined up in front of the set.

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Reflection on human nature: if aggressive behaviour occurs between people do we just watch it or rush off, or do we intervene? It’s a pity some humans aren’t the size of a cat or even a mouse…


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