We got home. Made a really yummy dinner of spaghetti squash (recipe here!). Did some work on the computer. Watched a TV show. As it was getting late I headed upstairs to brush my teeth etc. Having forgotten my cell phone, I went back downstairs and as I got to the bottom a movement on the stove caught my eye. “yehAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!!!! A mouse!!” Devin comes stumbling into the room, having gotten tangled up in the blanket he had on his lap, just as the mouse scurried away behind the stove. “WHAT!” he yells, “Are you ok?” “A mouse! A MOUSE! On MY STOVE! Eeeeating out of the frying pan. A MOUSE!”
A few disclaimers: We own an old house. I understand this. I grew up in an old house. And when the weather gets cooler, the mice move in closer. Also, I have owned two pet mice before (separate times and both under different circumstances of adoption). They were white mice (Phat Maus and Ruby) and lived in a glass aquarium. NOT on my stove.
Return to Scene.
I run over to the stove and climb onto to the counter to peer behind it, “Get me a light!” Devin hands me a flashlight which I shine behind the stove in sweeping manners hoping to catch the four legged thieves. “Oh look! They stole the peach pit that was on the counter!”
A dirty fry pan? AND a peach pit on the counter? Makes us sound like slobs. Alright, so the dishes normally get done the next day and well…the peach pit. I was planning to plant it and see if it would grow. See! A reason to the madness.
Return to Scene.
“Stupid mice, stealing my peach pit.” I grumble climbing off the counter and looking at Devin, “Welllll?” “What?” he says. “What should we do?!” I ask exasperated, “We are infested!” “We’re not infested. We’ll deal with it later,” he says over his shoulder as he walks back to his desk, “And only use that scream when you are being stabbed or attacked or something…not for a mouse.”
“That was my angry scream,” I argue, running up the stairs and into our room. I snatch Leisl off the bed and run back down the stairs with the sleepy cat. I set him on the stove, look him square in the eyes and say, “Well, leave you scent or something! Obviously you’ve been slacking.” Leisl looks around dumbfounded as to why a) he is downstairs b) awake and c) on the counter where I normally spray him with a water bottle for doing so. Having finally decided all the racket was worth checking out, Cora lumbers into the kitchen *yawning* and comes over to sniff at Leisl on the counter. Having not done an adequate job of “leaving his scent behind”, I grab Leisl and start rubbing him back and forth on the counter, almost like a furry black dish cloth sweeping away any sign of the nasty. “That will have to do I guess,” I say leaving Leisl flopped on his side and turning to put the pan into soapy water.
Ooops! Knocked the cookie sheet off the drying rack. *CRASH!* Leisl flies off the counter, Cora takes chase, Leisl makes it to the stairs but miscalculates the height of the gate and catches himself during his flying leap to freedom. As he rolls out of his summersault and tries to pick up speed on the stairs he slips on this months “Professional Photographer” magazine, skidding in place for an instant before shooting up and away. Cora remains jumping and barking on the other side of the gate, wondering, “Why did he have to leave so quickly?”
Having cleaned the counter and the stove and stashed away anything that might be considered “mouse friendly”, I decide that I can deal with this later. Chances are that mouse is long gone. Or brave and waiting for use to go to bed so he can feast on our fingers and toes!….ugh.
As I walked up the stairs, I reminded myself to breath…Woosa. Woosa. It’s an old house. There will be mice. We’re going to have to deal with mice…UGH! Maybe we need another cat.
And because we all need something calming to focus on at times, here is one of my favorites from our canoe trip this summer. 🙂 *Breathing*
Any tips for dealing with mice?