Cat & Mouse...really, cat & mouse!

There simply is not enough gin on the planet right now to make things OK.
I'm trying, but this is way above my current pay grade.
The issue is mouses. (I don't want to hear that crap about the plural of mouse being mice. This is my post and I prefer the incorrect term, mouses.)
My mostly unemployed 32 lb. cat just confirmed my worst fear about living in this farmhouse.
There ARE mouses that live here, too.
The big guy (cat, not husband) caught one over the weekend. It was a horrible experience, which I am still not over, in spite of consuming mass quantities of whatever (gin is best) alcohol I can get my hands on. Is there a better excuse for drinking? Screw social drinking. This is stress drinking. This is rodent stress drinking.

At some point, after a significant amount of rodent stress drinking, I got the feeling that more little mouse bastards still might social-networking under the kitchen sink, or perhaps behind the stove, and maybe, just maybe the big cat didn't catch all of the mouse-intruders.I thought this because he spent several hours like this...just waiting...watching...being super stealthy.

Just so you know, this is what passes for a cat disguise in my home. The cat becomes completely invisible to mouses when he puts his head in the laundry basket. It works, too- because the current score is 

 Mickey the 32 lb.Invisible Cat: 1       Mouses: 0

I kind of thought I should do something helpful to try and drive away the mouses, too- and (mostly due to the increased gin consumption) settled on making a whole lot of noise, to convince any rodents still parked in the house that there was simply too much mouse-danger to risk staying, or (God forbid) making another appearance. In case anyone is faced with this or a similar dilemma, let me tell you that tap shoes on a hardwood floor are a great tool for making a racket. The only downside is that the dog got confused (he's not too much smarter than the cat) and thought that there was someone knocking at the door. For 2 hours. So he barked for 2 hours, until I took the tap shoes off. My second choice was majorette boots; although the noise factor wasn't as satisfying as the tap shoes, they added the extra protection...adding a nifty leather barrier between me and any mouse that might come flying out from under the sink. But it's been lots of years since these have been worn, and the years have not done anything to add to the comfort factor. Plus, they looked really weird with my pajamas. But it felt pretty good to march around the kitchen holding a martini glass. Made me forget about the mouses and mentally challenged pets, but now I'm waiting for that phone call from PETA.