The mice come out to play. But the ironic (or irritating–depending on how you look at it) is that the cats (the real live furry ones) were at home. We had a family (I use that loosely) of mice living in our sunflower patch this summer. I could watch them from the safety of my sunroom, as they scurried up the stalks to eat all the seeds. Bill would kindly remind me that once it gets cold they won’t be cute as they find their way inside the house.
I know that was true. I detest mice and rats. They freak me out. It is comical. I’ll squeal and….quite frankly it is a bit embarrassing. But I knew it was inevitable.
Last night as we went to bed, I saw the telltale signs of a mouse. One of our cats was sitting on the kitchen floor staring with a laser-like focus at the stove. I immediately thought about how fast I might pack a bag and stay at a hotel. Because as fate would have it–Bill is out of town. My mouse wrangling protector was no where to be found.
I didn’t think much more about it, until about 5:30 this morning when I heard one of the cats in the bathtub. She was clearly “playing” with something. This is a cat who has a play instinct, but no killer instinct. So, I did what any self-respecting mom would do–I made my kids go look in the bathtub.
I let the dogs outside and heard the first report that she was playing with a wash cloth. Okay I thought. Then Noah screamed–IT’S A MOUSE. COOKIE HAS A MOUSE.
All I could think was You have got to fucking kidding me.
The kids laughed and screamed that it was trying to get out.
They asked questions: Why is the cat smelling it?
I wanted to know: Why the hell isn’t the cat eating it?
I mustered all my willpower–as I couldn’t very well ask my 6 year old to trap the mouse and get him outside–could I? I surveyed the situation. The mouse was not getting out of the bathtub and the cat was not going to eat him. They looked a lot more like close friends than hunter and prey. Looking back I wish I would have grabbed my phone and snapped a quick pic, but in reality I was really trying to just hold my shit together.
Zoë of course thought he was cute and Noah suggested we stab it. I was totally shocked by that suggestion and he rationalized that it wasn’t any different than a spider and I step on those. He later explained he wanted to take it to school and knew he couldn’t take it to school alive. I’m still a bit thrown back by that comment, as it was completely out of character.
Anyway, I got a tupperware container and a piece of cardboard. I trapped the mouse in the container and then used the cardboard to keep him in there. We then went outside and released him far away in the neighbors yard (their house is vacant). Noah let me know that he was pretty sure the mouse knew where we lived.
I had to let my husband know of the dangers I survived while he is off on a business trip. I like that he responded FUN. It was certainly not fun and this is the 2nd time this has happened when he was out of town. Last time my Aunt was over and she helped save the day, while I squealed like a little girl.
If it comes back–I am going to the Four Seasons.