AMONG MICE AND MEN
By Colleen Forbush
There is nothing more exciting or more nerve-racking than buying a house. But after all the "shopping" is done and after all the papers are signed, the real excitement of moving into your dream house begins. The house we had seen had been beautiful; but between the time we saw it and the time we bought it, a bit of time passed. In that time the house was let go. We moved in to a big mess. And worst of all, ya, you guessed it; the house also came with friends. The first night our dog apparently wounded one with her fangs (she’s missing her front teeth), it crawled into our oven drawer, unbeknownst to me, I turned on our gas oven to CLEAN. So the next night my Knight in Shining Armor and I were cleaning the kitchen (I was attacking the oven), I opened the oven drawer; and I shrieked. (You guys probably heard me). Yes, there it was; toasted mouse. But no matter what you have heard, it does not look as appetizing as it sounds. Well, like an idiot, I think that is the end of it. The next day as I’m cleaning - low and behold a mouse scurries across the floor. This time only a small scream and a big jump; I’m being brave because I’m trying not to scare the children. That night while scrubbing the millions of coats of grease and grime off of the floor with The Knight, another mouse peeked its head out at me from the cabinet. Another shriek and another giant jump. The next day we called the exterminators. They came out three days later, not soon enough for me, but it worked out for our cat, Bytor. It was about 2 am, and I heard this scampering across the kitchen tile floor and this crash. I heard this over and over again, so I came down stairs to see what was up. There he was, Bytor, "hiding" under the kitchen table. The mouse would crawl out from under the stove, Bytor would run to try and catch him, the mouse would scurry back under the stove, and Bytor would then skid and smack into the stove. They say the sign of a crazy person is someone who does the same behavior over and over again expecting different results. Well, I guess our cat is about as crazy as they get because he was at it for hours. It was like watching a Tom and Jerry cartoon. Well, the exterminator man came. I described my problem. He told me that there is no way a mouse is that big. He said that I must be over exaggerating or that we had rats. But I stood my ground and said that I knew that it sounded impossible, but that it was a very large, fat mouse. "This is his favorite draAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!" "EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEK!" squealed the mouse. "Oh my God! That is one giant mouse!" yelled the exterminator man. "I’m sorry I screamed." "Hey, lady, if that had been me, I would have screamed too." "Cool Mom! Do that again!" "Okay kids, anything for you." (Ya , right). So what had happened is this. As I was opening the drawer, I apparently surprised the mouse which scared him and made him jump straight up in the air which turned out to be about ½ inch from my nose. He then hit the floor and ran under the refrigerator. Needless to say it took me a long time to open that drawer without flinching.
It was a cool summer night; The Knight was working late, and the children were all nestled in their beds while dreams of winning the lottery danced in their heads. Spotty, our other cat, began this weird meowing. So I called him to me. He came and dropped a live baby mouse at my feet. "Good Lord, Cat! What are you doing?!" The mouse sees his chance. He makes a run for it. But Spotty, not about to lose his honor, fetches him back. But the mouse is determined to get away. He runs away again. By this time the dog (which most people call What The Heck Is That! But is actually named Sugar) has decided to get in on the act. She snatches up the mouse in her mouth and begins to prance with pride. But because Sugar has no front teeth, the mouse wriggles out of her mouth and continues to make a break for it. The demoralized dog is now more determined than ever. No young whipper-snapper is going to outdo this old dog. The cat in the meantime is getting a little upset with the dog for trying to steal the credit and his mouse. So he is now playing "cat and mouse" with this poor baby mouse. The mouse decides to run like a "mad man" for the front door, and I’m rooting for him. "Go, mouse, go! You can do it!" But the mouse decides he’s not falling for that old trick, and stops running for the open front door. He decides to double back. And I’m yelling "You stupid mouse! What the H are you thinking?!" Well, by this time I have no choice. I run to the kitchen, get a glue board (which the exterminator had left to "trap" the mice), and throw it at the mouse. It’s a direct hit - well, sort of. It hit the mouse in the head. So now this poor little mouse is snow plowing across the floor. The cat is now trying to figure out what I did to his mouse. The dog is trying to figure out how to pick it up without ending up stuck to the glue board. And I’m quietly screaming, "Oh God! Oh God!" So I gather up all of my courage and throw the mouse out onto the front porch. I shut the door and try to calm myself down. Just then The Knight rides up on his trusty steed. "Oh look; Colleen’s waiting for me. How sweet." (Ya, right). Just as he gets to the front step, I dead bolt the door. "What?" "Your not coming in until you take care of that." "What?" "That!" "Oh."
Well, between the backyard, the kitchen, one in the bathroom, the garage, and our bedroom (where the babies like to come out and get caught) we are up to 17 mice. The red tailed hawks love our back yard.
Colleen ForbushCopyright 1999
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