Back in comfort…showers that are hot, food that is convenient, healthy water from the tap, toilets that flush with toilet paper, newspaper that arrives, fire-place that needs only gas, internet at my disposal, and one cute little grey mouse in the kitchen.
Time out, you say, time out. Did she just say MOUSE?
I was cleaning up as I go, making dinner in the kitchen. The vent was going as it does when it is getting heated. Puffs of white fluff came spewing out from underneath the oven. It was like cotton balls, but lighter in texture. Hmmm, why would that be happening, I thought.
Later as I was cleaning up the last dish I saw her….she skittered from under the oven to under the fridge.
I softly cried, “eeww, eeww, eeww” and ran down the hall into the washroom for protection.
I’m impressed that I didn’t scream and cry RAT! from the countertop. I guess I’m still in practice from Ecuador. You don’t scream… ever… in Emily’s house….because you know why…naps and bedtime at all costs. I know that is what I sounded like when I broke my arm too. Only then I said, “ow, ow, ow” and started crawling.
The only worse thing than a rat is a dead little mousie in a trap. Dave helped me out on that one. He said, he had a live little trap downstairs. He put peanut butter in it. The next morning the flag was up on the doorway of the little house and told him he had a visitor.
I said, “you better bring him outside so he can roam free”. Dave is so good at taking are of these little details in my life.
When he got back inside I asked him if the mouse looked happy to be where he belongs.
“No, he didn’t look too thrilled. Because he was dead, dead as a doornail.”
“EWWWWWWWWWWWWWW ! “. And it wasn’t a whisper. The only worse thing for me than a live rat, is a dead one.
PS Dave set up the so-called live peanut butter trap again, if she had a brother. Her brother also suffocated, probably in the peanut butter. Today he wanted me to help pull out the stove. I said, “do you want me to have a heart attack?” I got out of that job and it was done in a jiffy. Dave was out in the yard when I asked the verdict. He refused to tell me, because I didn’t help. I can only imagine what he found, because there he was was…trying to recover, filling up the bird feeders in the deep March snow.