I woke up this morning at 3:45am to the most ungodly sound coming from my cat. I thought to myself, this is it, she's dying. Then I heard her scramble across the floor and mewl some more. I called her over, but didn't come. She then races into my room and crashes into the closet, and now I think: Great, she has chosen my closet as her place to die. But then I see it. She's chasing something. There is a tiny dark shadow in front of her. Now, I'm no chicken - I grew up on a farm and have seen all manner of tiny creepy shadows - so I turn on the light, find my slippers and go and investigate.
It's a mouse.
When we lived on the farm, every Fall we'd get mice in the house. It was a common occurrence. In fact, I remember my brothers playing with a mouse once and using a toilet plunger to catch it, push down, and watch the mouse fly into the air. I think our then house cat took care of that mouse shortly after.
So, knowing that Ruby was not dying, I left her to do her "flight of the bumblebee" routine (so named because she runs about the house like a bee stung her arse) and either chase the mouse away, or have a late night snack.
Many apologies if I've offended any mouse-rights activists.