The Mouse
Whoever said mousy brown was boring hadn’t seen the highlights on the mouse I just set free in the backyard. It sparkled in the sun and I swear it had blond streaks and looked a little like my ex-husband though he’s almost completely gray now. It definitely had his eyes. It scurried off under the porch, which of course was the last thing I wanted it to do, and probably head straight for whatever hole it entered my home in the first place. Mice are smart creatures you know, and after having read a certain book, I’m now completely glad I opted for the kill free trap to get this little critter out of my kitchen. (42!) He had eaten the handle of my brand new Kitchen Aid ice cream scoop (I guess the dishwasher missed a spot?) and I have to say from the things I’ve gathered in my 38 years, it’s probably not good to be the size of a mouse and eat a good portion of an ice cream scoop handle. It screams cancer to me and though I do feel guilty to a degree that I may be somewhat responsible for this little critter’s death due to “scoop” as well as the guilt of tossing him out into the cold, I’m not that guilty that I’m going to invite him back in again to toilet in my silverware drawer and amongst my pots and pans.
This wasn’t the first time we’d been visited by a mouse. A few years ago, we realized there were droppings in and around the pans and so every pan was taken out of the cabinet and all was scoured. I felt dirty, unclean, invaded. After putting them all back thinking this would somehow take care of the problem, I was of course greeted by more little remnants from our new friend. Charming. So once again I took everything out and scoured all the pots and pans and the cabinet, this time using ammonia.
We had gone away for a few days, and when we came home, we smelled something. It was not a good something. It was not even an unpleasant something. It was a bad something. It was death. It was the death of the mouse in the cabinet. There it was, probably asphyxiated from the fumes of the ammonia, and its own fumes of death were now left to taunt us since it could no longer do that itself. Of course everything had to be washed AGAIN. In the future, I will never use grapefruit smelling dish soap, for it will always remind me of dead mouse in the cabinet.
So this time, when I knew we had company in our midst, I wasn’t as quick to take everything out. I took out only what was needed and left the rest to sit. Ok, so that’s gross but I’m tired of washing everything a million times and this time it seemed more focused on the silverware drawer above the cabinet which is, in fact, empty. I cleared the shelf in the cabinet and set the “kill free” trap. This consists of a device where on one end is a little top that pulls off and one applies peanut butter or another mouse attracting substance. Snap top back on. The other end looks like something a barber would use attached to clippers to get a certain length. Somehow this all balances till said mouse or lord knows what else creeps in to get the peanut butter and the weight shifts causing the barbers clippers to come down and close things off kind of like a cage, but you don’t actually see inside. Ok so that was a terrible description, but I’m not an engineer.
So this afternoon I have returned home and am pouring some cereal for lunch (yes, I need better eating habits which I’m sure the mouse agrees with too) when I suddenly realize that I am pouring cereal into a bowl which is placed on the counter directly above the drawer which is directly above the cabinet which holds the shelf which upon lays the trap I have set for the mouse.
I very cautiously open the door and peek in…only to see…it has sprung. So I then very timidly move it ever so slightly and it weighs more which means yes, it has NOT sprung on its own like it did the first time I checked which I am sure was a joke played on me by the ghost of the first mouse who died of ammonia asphyxiation. So…I muster up my strength as if this thing is so heavy and pick it up and open the sliding door to the back porch and walk out. I do not wish to be seen as I am wearing a t-shirt, scrubs and flip flops. I walk down the steps but the lawn is a mushy mess, so I decide to take the risk and let him go here. That and I just don’t think I want to hold on to this much longer. And I’m wondering if it is even still alive since it is, after all, afternoon and I haven’t checked since last night and there wasn’t THAT much peanut butter in there and well…geez, I didn’t know what was in there…it could be anything at this point. My life has gotten awfully strange.
And off I twist the little cap only to see the most beautiful mousy brown hair with golden highlights jump out and head back to my house….and I think of my life and all I have accomplished. The things I have done, the fears I have faced. The mice I have carried out of the house. And I know exactly how I am going to explain to my hairdresser Pam how I want my hair next time…
Hello out there
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