Thursday night I'm woken by the sound of banging and crashing downstairs in the hall. I listen intently, wondering whether to get up and explore or whether to leave it and be murdered in my bed. I fall back to sleep.
In the morning I wake up to find all the shoes, that are usually stored neatly under the bench in the hall, strewn across the floor. "Hmmm... I'm guessing the cat brought a mouse in and lost it" I say to Big Al who is somewhere else in the country working. I check the shoes and store them neatly again. Seems like the mouse may have met his maker elsewhere, as long as the cat didn't leave entrails in my shoe, life will be fine.
I'm in the pub on a Friday night with Big Al and my phone goes - a text from Tall girl who I left at home watching TV. "Mouse!" it read.
B***er! I thought. The little B*****d must have been hiding.
A photo comes through on my phone of the mouse, looking very much alive.
"Catch it in a sieve" I type. It was all I could think of at the time as wine had been consumed.
"I've shut myself in the sitting room" she texts back.
"But they can squeeze under doors" I reply.
"Big Al says Josie will catch it for you"
"Big Al is wrong" came the text after a few minutes.
"A job for Sam then (the boyfriend) when he arrives?"
"Sam doesn't like mice" she texts "they have one in their house too!"
It all goes quiet for a while. Then she sends a photo of the cat asleep with all his legs in the air - that's clearly not going to help either.
I start to forget about the whole thing when the phone pings again with a text that says "It's really fast!"
"I don't like it!"
By this time tears were rolling down my cheeks and I assured her we'd be home soon. I text her to say this and to make sure the cat is out of the room and that the mouse is barricaded in as she wouldn't want to witness a massacre.
When we get home I put Big Al in the sitting room to catch the mouse. He promptly flicks on Match of the Day and sits down to watch it while the mouse hides under the sofa.
I go to bed.
In the morning the mouse is stiff as a board under the kitchen table. I look at the cat. He's not taking responsibility for anything. He shrugs and moves on.