What you see beyond this post is a collection of old writing. Written back in 2004-2005 when I was just beginning to dip my toes back into the writing waters.
We’ve known since shortly after moving into this trailer that we may have a mouse (or mice). We saw the droppings behind the fridge, but we cleaned them up and called it good. We never saw any sign that it was still in the house. Slowly the droppings started coming back, but we never saw the mouse. Never saw any signs in the pantry that it was rummaging for food. Nothing. So we didn’t really worryabout it.
Now, a year later we’re seeing more signs. The most obvious of which was the mouse itself. It dashed from around the kitchen counters to under the TV. I wasn’t afraid of it and even tried to find the little bugger, but no luck. All we saw was a streak of grey as it ran back into the kitchen and likely under the fridge.
I really didn’t have a problem with the little guy, but I knew we had to get rid of it fast before it breeds (any more than it may have already).
Last night, however, changed everything. Before, it had confined itself to the kitchen for the most part. My indifference towards the little guy changed to hateful wrath when I heard it scurrying in our bedroom. More specifically, near my daughters bed in which she was peacefully sleeping. I got up with a flash light and tried to find him, but again no luck.
As I lay in bed Googling how to get rid of mice, I come upon a gem of a tip that claims mice do not like the smell of mint. It recommends placing cotton balls soaked in peppermint extract or peppermint oils around the house. Genius! I happened to have some peppermint extract in the cupboards! I figured at 1am, I’d just put some around the bedroom for the night and figure out the rest tomorrow.
I hop out of bed, head to the kitchen and open my pantry door. Only to be face to face with the cutest little mouse, with an adorable nose and whiskers clinging to the pantry door. It was such an adorable little thing that my only natural reaction was to scream in horror and jump back from the pantry. As I did, my foot brushed up against one of Luvi’s small soft toys on the kitchen floor and I screamed again and jumped onto the counter.
The sound of hysterical laughter could be heard from the bedroom and I heard Mike say “Sounds like you found the mouse!”
I laughed at myself for being so foolish. It was just a little mouse! I couldn’t believe I’d just screamed like a little girl the way I did! I called for Mike to come into the kitchen and help me catch the little critter. He was trapped in the pantry with nowhere to go.
Mike laughed his way into the kitchen and watched as I shined a flashlight and found the little mouse behind the trash can. I grabbed a mixing bowl in a moronic attempt to catch it. Chastising myself for my earlier moment of weakness, I opened the pantry door determined to catch it.
He actually stopped and looked at me. He was so cute. Tiny and staring at me with those cute little eyes. His nose twitching. I was even able to notice that his fur was a brown/grey color. As I bent down to shoo him into my bowl I was positive I had him where I wanted him.
The next moments were almost in slow motion. I could see him as he dashed towards the bowl. For a split second I was sure I had him! As he touched the bowl, I was ready to turn it over and cage him. I was prepared, determined; success was within my grasp only two inches away! Until it all went horribly wrong. The most adorable mouse I’d ever seen jumped right out of the bowl towards the only safe haven he knew. The fridge. His only obstacle was the huge human woman wearing nothing but a night gown. His only chance for freedom was between two towering pillars of flesh, but he decided to take it. He zoomed between my legs and as he did my reaction was to perform the most ungraceful little dance and squeal my fool head off like a little girl.
I danced and and squealed to the music of Mike’s uncontrollable laughter. Eventually I was able to calm down and cease my horrendous attempt at ballet, but the laughter lasted another half-hour with me eventually joining in.
I am ashamed to say that after almost 32 years, bearing 3 children, serving my country for 4 years, killing hundreds of spiders and other terrifying insects; a cute little mouse is the only thing that can make me scream like a b*tch.
Lesson learned: Mice are my kryptonite. Now I need to go get some traps, and Mike is on a mission to get a realistic toy mouse to leave around the house for me. I’m doomed.