Just watch the video.

First, let me start this post by saying that the love of my life is not retarded.

Having said that, I invite you to watch this video from Youtube:

Here's the story: Julie calls me this morning and speaks at about 10,000 words per second. I didn't understand her, and being the loving and dutiful boyfriend/fiancee person that I am, I say "hun?".

She proceeds to tell me that there's a mouse in the house, and Bob (the dumb cat) has been playing with it. Apparently, he grabbed it by the tail and sent it flying some six feet into the other room.

I proceed to tell her that he's doing his job, and before I can explain that he'll toy with it for awhile, she tells me she doesn't want to see the mouse hurt.

She wants me to come over and get the mouse before Bob can kill it.

...

I walk over (takes me all of about 30 seconds) and she tells me the mouse is under the cedar chest in the living room. I feel around under there with the marshmallow roaster she gave me (but not the pointy end, because that'll hurt the mouse) but I can't find it. It wasn't there.

I started to say "when you smell something bad, that means it's dead and we can find it then", but I couldn't, because she's still worried that Bob will kill it.

It. Is. A. Mouse. Bob. Is. A. Cat.

Am I the only one not to pick up on the obvious correlation here?

I couldn't find it, so I headed back to my place. About two hours later, she calls again and says it's under the couch. Bob's pretty much useless at this point, so I have to come over again and see if I can "catch" the mouse.

Of course, I'm not to hurt the little rodent, whose ancestors brought down Europe by spreading the frickin' Plague, but I can't hurt it.

Yeah, this is gonna be fun.

I get over there, and the sectional soft is in sections in the living room, and I see a little gray thing dart in and out from under it. When we move the couch again, it runs out (past two cats, one too fat and lazy to move, and the other too stoopid to realize what it was) and starts to go in circles around the living room.

Julie's got the front door open (letting in God-knows what else) to try and shoo it outside. At one point, this purveyor of filth and disease tried to crawl up my pant leg (alas, that wasn't caught on video), before finally getting cornered in the kitchen.

It was about to go down in the basement (something I was trying like mad to avoid, since it could get lost for YEARS down there...nevermind the fact that Julie's room is in the basement...oh, that'd be just ducky), so I pin it's little head against the doorframe with a 20 pound bag of cat litter.

I could've ended the problem right there and then, but Julie had the camera out and was taping. The other last thing I want is video evidence of me committing mouseicide, so I use the pitcher she gave me to shoo it back a little. Hailey got the marshmallow roaster (still not allowed to use the pointy end to skewer the little rat...er, ah...mouse) and nudged it to me and the waiting container.

(There is video of the capture, yes, but it's not on Youtube...yet. I have to edit out one scene with Hailey's butt. Julie doesn't think she'd appreciate seeing it out there. I'll see if I can get the file and delete her bending over, then post it.)

I take it out into the yard to get rid of it, but then...well...you saw the video.

Julie grown attached to the little bastard!

I'm ready for her to pick it up and take it back inside to make a pet of it!

Sigh.

I do love her. She has a big, kind and caring heart. She's is wonderful.

Even if she did want to adopt a rat.