Tuesday, July 19, 2011

Crowning Mouse America

Since our return from the U.K., we have been plagued by mice in the house. I write “mice,” but we believe it is only one mouse, a frightened little brown and black creature which we have seen holed up in the kids’ bathroom and scurrying from said bathroom to Pete’s office in a matter of seconds. Seconds during which I spent screeching like, well, a girl. We have also heard it within the walls. Two nights ago, it left the relative security of the downstairs level to spend the late night/early morning hours within the walls of our bedroom.

I would have likely slept through its foray in the wee hours of the morning had it not been for Pete’s actions to eradicate the mouse from within our bedroom’s walls. The banging on the walls, stomping on the floor, turning on the lights, shaking the bureau and cursing up a storm brought me straight out of bed. All that action had the mouse quiet as, well, a church mouse for brief periods of time.

Since Pete is the one who laid out traps three days ago, I imagine the mouse has him within its sights. The addition of poison in the cave – the crawlspace under the house – and electronic “mouse-away” contraptions yesterday, again through Pete’s efforts, apparently pissed off the mouse even more. Last night’s activity within our bedroom’s walls shot up several notches from the night before.

Telling our friends about the mouse when they were over Saturday night, I indicated the size of the mouse.

“Dude,” Joanne said, in so many words, “that’s no mouse. That’s a rat.”

I argued that the size was clearly mouse’ish rather than rat’ish. She asked its color, and when I told her it was brown and black, she relented in her assertion of the species.

“Oh, if it’s a model, then, yeah, it’s a mouse.”

“A ‘model’?” I wondered to myself. “What the hell is a ‘model’ mouse? Does that mean it competes in mouse beauty contests? Does it have a little tiara?”

Of course, the word she used was “mottled.” Which makes a hell of a lot more sense to me. I’m sure it does to you as well.

I wish it were a model and that it was taking a stroll down the catwalk.

[Photo courtesy sciencemuseum.org.uk.]


Tara R. said...

If it were a model you could get Heidi Klum to simply send it home.

That Uncomfortable Itch said...

The big, plastic T-rex traps work like a gem. The thing with mice or rats is that there is never just one. Those beasts have loose morals and reproduce with anything they possibly can.


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