A couple of weeks back we had a little mouse problem. I’m over the trauma now and able to talk about it.
One evening I was nestled on the couch with my laptop and saw something move across the floor out of my peripheral vision. I instantly drew every body part up to my chin for fear of what it could be.
After 15 minutes or so I grabbed one of Peter’s toys, holding it in front of me as a weapon. I walked to the site of the disturbance and gingerly poked around to see if anything would move again.
To my relief, nothing moved though I wasn’t convinced that it was a figment of my imagination.
I went upstairs and woke Casey to tell him the horrible news. “I think we have a mouse. Can you please come and catch it?”
My question was met with “hrmph…uh…tomorrow.”
That was a night of terror, my friends.
You see, the only thing I’m afraid of are mice. It’s unnatural how they can squish their bodies into any sized crevice. It’s violating how they run around your house, poking into your food and running along your counters. It’s terrifying that they could be inside my couch when I sit down.
And now I had one in my house.
The next morning I asked Casey if he remembered me telling him about the mouse. He did and said he would set up some traps later that day.
That evening we were talking in the kitchen and the little vagrant ran right by him into the dining room.
“Get the gun! Could you shoot it?”
Apparently that’s not a practical solution.
Casey set up three traps and later that night found the little bugger in one of them. Knowing that mice usually travel in yucky little packs, he kept the traps up.
The next night I was working in the living room and heard the SNAP! of another trap. I ran upstairs to get my mouse hunter so he could remove number two. Number three came the next night and we’ve gladly been mouse free for a few weeks.
I can rest - and walk – easily.
But somebody in my house thinks that a mouse would be a nice addition…as a pet.
My mom dropped off a wrought iron outdoor candle holder and Peter told Casey on his way into the house the other day that it would be the perfect home for a mouse.
“It would be a nice mouse and it wouldn’t get out of its cage and Mommy wouldn’t have to be scared, she would like it,” he said convincingly to his dad.
“Uh, I don’t think Mom will go for that,” said Casey.
“Well I’ll tell her and she won’t be scared.”
My little salesman walked into the house and told me of his idea.
“Absolutely not” was my reply, thinking that Casey put him up to it.
He burst into tears.
Casey then told me what Peter had told him and I felt bad.
But not bad enough to actually purchase my greatest fear and bring it willingly into my home.
Sorry kiddo, not going to happen.
Every morning when Peter walks by the cage he remarks at what a great home it would be for a mouse.
He’s going to have to keep dreaming and I’m going to have to get a candle.
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