Of Mice and men…and a preggy
We were hanging out in the kitchen last night…about to hit the hay. Talking about something, probably how to cure cancer, and suddenly my wife turned into a gibbering little girl.
“hmmhe hemmhe mhehmemh…” She’s very articulate, “Moouuse.” As she holds me ever tighter.
Now this mouse runs from behind me, in the laundry area, in front of the stove, and tries to go into an under cabinet vent, but the heat is on. So, having met our animals and having no fear of them, he scurries between the legs of deaf dog, hitting her, and runs under the dish washer. Mable never even flinched.
“Where are your cats?” she asked.
“My cats are like 15 years old. The mouse tagged your dog.”
“yeah…well…she’s not a cat.”
So the rest of the night, any little noise…”What was that?” “Is that in our room?”
Now, for a little back story. I hate killing anything. We have known about the mouse for a few months. I put out a humane trap, and the mouse got in, stole the peanut butter, and escaped. I reinforced the box, and the dogs must have dragged it out, hearing a mouse inside, and let the mouse go. It’s very “good guy” Tom and Jerry. That big dog, Spike, always helped the mouse. So I got an industrial sonic pest deterrent…which was running last night when Fivel made his ballsy run of the kitchen.
I guess it’s mouse-icide next.
I also just read this article about fear. Maybe this mouse escaped the experiment…
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