Normally, I pride myself on being as un-annoyingly girly as possible. I am not very delicate, and I don’t quite see the point of pretending to be a simpering, incapable woman when I’m not one. I’m stubborn, but not so stubborn that I can’t ask for help when I need it.
All of this is preface to my telling you that I screamed like a little girl the other day. If I’d been near a chair or table, I probably would have hopped right up there and continued to scream. Without either of those things, I did a little hop-on-each-foot dance that I’m sure I could not have played off with some Gangnam Style moves.
I saw a mouse.
A little furry creature dashing across the floor of the Dog Porch with blazing speed. Funnily enough, it moved just like a wind up toy mouse. It darted and dashed while I “eeked” at the top of my lungs and the dog looked on uninterestedly. He’d just woken up and is worse than I am when it comes to being bright eyed and bushy tailed. Given the choice, he’d loll around the bed all day. Smart dog.
Since I was running late, I made some cursory “shoo” noises and gestures with the broom that I quickly armed myself with. I saw the little bugger scurry out the doggy door – no doubt, the fact that the dog promptly destroyed five of the six zip ties holding the flap in place aided the home wrecker in accessing our house. Then, I wished the dog good luck versus the mouse, told him to be a good boy, and skeedaddled off to work.
I texted my husband to tell him about the urgent mouse situation. I was distressed that I’d had to leave it unsolved. He, in his nonchalant way said, “Well, honey? That’s what happens when you live in the country.”
Not comforting, dude.
I envisioned the mouse chilling in our house – sipping the coffee left in the pot, reading the Barbara Kingsolver novel on the couch, LICKING MY TOOTHBRUSH.
Uggh. It was too much to handle.
I bought some traps. It’s probably futile, but I’d like the little effer out of my stuff. I never met his city cousin at our old house, and I’m fairly sure we didn’t invite this guy in for a visit. Good riddance, Mr. Mouse. I hope you take this warning to get out while the getting out is good and done under your own freewill.
