Once upon a time, Walt built an entire career on one, then he let a bunch of them make Cinderella's ballgown. The Mighty one was a superhero, and the Mexican one was super Speedy. Spielberg brought a little Russian one to America, and E. B. white let his sail a boat in Central Park. There were, apparently, three blind ones, though Bart Simpson's was just Itchy. The one in the nursery rhyme ran up a clock, and at some point you have scrolled around your desktop with one. Tom chased one who often stole cheese, you've probably let a giant one named Chuck E. serve you pizza, and Laura Numeroff gave one a cookie.
So why am I completely freaked out to have one in my house???
I was sitting in my chair, as I often do when I chat or write...one foot tucked under me, the other foot in the floor, laptop in, well, it's called a laptop for a reason. Then I sensed it. You know that feeling you get when there is SOMETHING else in the room with you. I peeked around the laptop and THERE IT WAS, not 4 inches from my foot. I screamed silently (since there was no one else at home or in the woods to hear me, I obviously wouldn't have made a sound anyway), quickly tucked BOTH feet under me, and watched it watch me.
Ewwww.
When it was a safe distance away (safe distance = 3 car lengths), I went to get a mousetrap. Not finding one, I came back with a broom, as I guess I thought I could use it as a getaway vehicle if I saw her again. I say "her" because she was small. And kinda cute. And completely gross. And though I NEVER gave her a cookie, she still left little chocolate sprinkles in her wake. *Shudder.
I used to have gerbils as pets. Explain this to me.
Anyway, a couple of days and a mousetrap-shopping-spree later, the cowboy trapped one and notified me via text. I breathed a deep sigh of relief until the second text arrived stating "what a big sucker he was".
No, no she wasn't.
She was a wee little thing. Dainty. Delicate. Disgusting. And apparently still vacationing in my house and inviting her friends.
Oh, where is a hungry snake when you need one???
She - let's call her "Mini Mouse"- tormented me for days, zipping around corners, scurrying under sofas, bounding across the bedroom floor, forcing me to leap into bed and pull the comforter up on all four sides to make CERTAIN she did not have an access ramp to my mattress. Once she even stared me down from the back of what USED to be my favorite reading chair.
Finally, today, I broke down and bought glue traps. I don't like them. They are inhumane. Or inrodentane. But this cohabitation arrangement had gone on entirely long enough; it was time for this unwelcome tenant to go. The cowboy lined up several traps in a row, baited them with cat food (which works great, especially in the absence of an ACTUAL cat) and within a few minutes we heard her. Then we saw her. She raced under the couch, around the leather cube, across the brick hearth, landing on one of the glue traps with all the finesse of an Olympic medalist, and went flying across the floor like a sticky Jamaican bobsledder.
I will not tell you what happened next, though a reference to Little Bunny Foo-Foo would be appropriate.
Go ahead, Good Fairy, goon me.
The End.
I hope.
I really, really hope.
2 comments:
I have a friend who is a rational adult ninety-nine percent of the time. At the mention of a mouse, however, she has been known to crawl out of a window and cower on the roof, refusing to come back inside. Whenever she comes over, my husband takes great delight in trying to read her _There's a mouse about the house!_
I'll trade you. I've been finding GIANT roaches and spiders in my house. Unfortunately Draco is nothing like Rocky. Back in Nashville all I'd have to do is point at a bug and Rocky would eat it. I point for Draco and he tries to eat my finger...
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