10:00 a.m. July 23, 2007
I am writing this from behind the piano. I cannot leave this area, because I saw a mouse go under the piano three hours ago. It has not come out, but it will. And when it does, I will kill it.

When I first saw the mouse it was very early morning. The mouse was small, grey, and soft. My mouth filled with saliva at the thought of crushing it in my teeth. I raced around the living room, ripping the carpet with my claws as I ran. I was never more than six inches behind it. It looked terrified. Joy grew in my heart as I sensed the mouse had only minutes to live.

I was in the midst of a catch-and-release game when my servant came into the room. She didn’t have her glasses on. She asked me what I was doing, and saw the dark thing running in front of me. I think she thought it was a tarantula, because she frantically tucked her pajama pants into her socks. As she scrambled for her glasses, the mouse ran behind my litter box. I waited.

My servant came back wearing her glasses and moved the litter box. The mouse ran out and under the piano.

“Howie, it’s only a mouse!” she said. She seemed amused.

I had never hated her more. If she hadn’t touched the litter box, I could have out-lasted the mouse. I could have killed it twelve times by now. Humans are so useless.

Now it is still under the piano. She has left for work, and I am wedged behind the piano, listening for sounds. I will be here as long as it takes.

6:33 a.m. July 24, 2007
It is done. I am weak with hunger, but the mouse is deceased. It is lying prone on the carpet in front of me. My servant has not seen it yet, but I know she will. I have left it in the center of the walkway outside her bedroom. When she gets up, she will see it.

I will not leave my kill; I am far too proud. I pace in circles around it. I deserve this reward, and every bit of praise I know my servant will give me.

I persevered. I waited and waited. I did not eat and I did not sleep. I never moved more than 20 inches from the piano.

Though I rarely think of others, I must give the mouse credit for its strategy. It often spent hours without moving a muscle inside the piano. But I must give myself more credit. I still knew it was there.

When it emerged, I was more than ready. The game was over within seconds. As the mouse’s life expired between my teeth, I was careful to preserve the body. I did not behead it, as some would have done. I did not even pierce the skin. I am too proud to eat mouse. I should like to brush my teeth after this.