It's gonna take me a while before I sit on that sofa again

So....what I thought was Hobbes just sitting on the edge of the sofa, chillin' after a hard morning of rounding up mousies, was in fact, not the case. 

"Why aren't you still gnawing on the mouse?" I chided her. "How could you let it get away?"  Of course, I had no way of knowing exactly what did happen in my brief absence, but because there was no body, I had to assume the worst and hope for the best. 

Aside from the awful thought that there is now a mouse 'underground entrance' into my home, I do at least have the satisfaction in knowing I will not be waiting for the smell of rotting mouse to fill the air any time soon.  Hobbes was apparently keeping the little bugger warm while she was perched on the edge of the sofa.

That's right, my latest gift from the girls was nestled all comfy-like on the sofa - under Hobbes keister that whole time!  And it looks like she groomed it to death.

I've since cleaned and scrubbed the spot (and the surrounding three feet) well with soap and water, then with rubbing alcohol, but it is still going to be a memory that I am going to have to work to blot out of my mind.