Mrs. Phactor noted a very realistic cat toy at the bottom of the basement stairs; it looked real because it was real. Every now and again a mouse finds its way into the house and if noticed it gets the kitty-girls very excited. This came to TPP's attention because of the number of decorative items that got knocked over during the excitement and some general house disarray. The extent of the excitement wasn't apparent at first because everybody was taking a nap (necessary after a good workout) by the time TPP got home. Mrs. Phactor wanted the carcass removed and it was in quite good repair and as it turned out it wasn't actually dead, just exhausted. As mentioned before our thoroughly domesticated pets have no killer instinct although their stalking, chasing, and pouncing instincts are quite good. So even after being pounced on by well-armed, terribly big predators some 200-250 times bigger than itself, the mouse was undamaged. So it would appear that neither of our kitty-girls learned how to kill prey. And so this blog ends well for the mouse who is back outside probably living quite well on spilled bird seed.
Sixty-four years later: How Watson and Crick did it
20 hours ago in The Curious Wavefunction