We have mice in our old German house. Sheryl has set traps and we've caught a few. A long time ago, Lucy, the late and great Queen of Calftown, caught a mouse or two in the house and there was a great deal of banging and clanging and screaming and ultimately praise heaped on a super smart Border Collie. She was the greatest dog ever.
Josie did not take long to fit in. She sat on the top of the couch, surveyed her new kingdom, and very calmly said, "Where is my litter box?" Sheryl took her into the basement, and Josie has been spending some serious time down there. This morning she was playing with something by the litter box - we hope it's a mouse. Or, more exactly, was a mouse.
Josie comes to us from Sheryl's sister, who found the cat on her porch and of course couldn't bear to leave her outside. And then, of course, she convinced Sheryl that we needed a mouser. Or did Sheryl convince Stephanie that we needed a mouser..... Either way, we have Josie the Mouser.
So. Josie is settling right in, the three dogs are mildly interested but generally leave her alone, and Calftown has once again gone to the dogs. And cat. Um, I mean, mouser.