When I came home today from the Young Women's activity I went into my closet room (an empty room in my apartment that I treat as my closet) and a MOUSE ran across the floor. He squeezed under my dresser, so I moved it out from against the wall. As I did that, the little furball ran out from the alcove underneath the dresser and disappeared somewhere in the bathroom (I'm assuming the hole in the corner that a pipe is coming out of.)
Bailey was watching this whole thing happen. And he epically failed at doing anything. Honestly, what good is a cat who can't catch mice?
I'll let it slide this one time. He's young, and in his defense he probably thinks mice are hot pink and green because those are the colors of his toy mice. I blame myself.
But I really, really don't want to wake up one morning with a dead mouse in my bed that he left as a "present."