Tuesday morning I was home, using the computer on the kitchen table, when I look over at the couch, and there is a Mouse!
Really, a mouse! I know there's been a bunch in the neighborhood. Every time one of my neighbors complains, I look at them with a slightly superior smile and say, "We have cats. We don't get mice."
So what did these hardworking cats do when there was a mouse? Tina watched it for a while, gave a couple of halfhearted swipes at it, and then got bored and wanted to go outside. I tried to reason with her. There is still a mouse. You can't go outside. Go get the mouse. Nothing. I gave up and let her out.
What about Spooky, the mighty slayer of birds? He slept through the whole thing, RIGHT ON TOP OF THE COUCH! The one with the mouse under it!
Clearly we were on our own. The kids were not happy when they came home and I told them, "You need to clean your rooms, and I am not kidding at all." They worked at it, more or less, but no sign of the mouse except for a nibbled granola bar under Will's bed. Ewwww. That night, I heard the mouse and saw Tina watching carefully for her chance. So maybe she was on the job after all.
But the next morning came and we still had a mouse. I took my paycheck to the bank and then headed to the store to buy a mousetrap. I was planning on waiting for Randy to set the trap and get rid of the creature, but Will read the instructions and wanted to set it up right then. Minutes later, he was in his much cleaner room when he saw a tissue moving on the floor. Then a nose poked out.
He wanted a trap, but I told him that the mouse would probably not come out as long as he was in the room. Will thought about it, and asked if he could get the mouse himself. I said sure, thinking that there was no chance that a skittish mouse would let a person anywhere nearby. But Will went off to his room, piece of wood in hand.
WHACK, WHACK, WHACKETY-WHACK
Out came Will, grabbed a paper towel, went back to his room, and comes out with a DEAD MOUSE. I had him take it out to the dumpster, then wash his hands thoroughly. (even though he hadn't actually touched the mouse. Still.)
And THAT is why it's nice to have a 12 year old boy.
His sisters were impressed in spite of themselves. "Weren't you scared?"
"Of a mouse?" he asked. "How could you be scared of a mouse?"
3 comments:
Seriously impressed. I am not scared of mice, but I am discouraged by the thought of mouse guts so I don't go after them myself.
I don't think I have any kids around here who would kill a mouse.
I think we need a 12 year old boy at our house! I don't hate mice, but when they're in my house I do despise them more than normal. We have at least 1 at large in our home that has yet to be caught, despite all of the traps we've set.
I have to say I don't like looking at the mice once it's been caught in the trap. And I DEFINITELY wouldn't like looking at it after it had been pounded to death with a board! Ew!!
Mother, I'm afraid I said nothing of the sort. I'm not scared of mice. Scared of rats, maybe. But not mice. :D
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