That's right, folks. A mouse. A live mouse. In my house. In my garbage can to be exact. And now that mouse is very cold and sad. And lucky to be alive but cold and sad all the same.
I was sitting here at the computer and I heard a noise, kind of a sizzling noise. Ron had just changed the filter on the refrigerator so I wondered if perhaps there was a leak somewhere in the line that was dripping on a hot dishwasher part, since the dishwasher was still warm from the recent washing. I decided to investigate. I do not, after all, wish to burn the house down. So I walked to the kitchen sink and stopped to listen. I could still hear the noise. So I opened up the cabinet door under the sink and a movement caught my eye along with the noise which was louder now. Holy %*^^$(#! There's a mouse (oh I hope it's a mouse and not a rat, I think) in my garbage can! Now can I get it out of the house without setting it loose in the kitchen? Ryan! Open the back door! Quick! Very carefully I pulled the garbage bag up out of the can and hold it closed. The sad mouse is sad because I had just recently taken the garbage out so he didn't find anything to eat. He was also sad because the empty garbage can made it impossible for him climb back out and make his escape. The sizzling noise I had heard was actually the sound of his tiny little mouse paws trying to climb up the slippery plastic walls of the garbage bag.
Garbage bag in hand, clinched tightly closed, and held oh so gingerly, I dash out the open door to the back porch. Now what? I head for the edge of the grass, set the bag down, and step back into the light. Ewwww!!!! Live mouse! In my house! Ewwww!!! Can I just say that I prefer my mice stuffed? Though I bore the nickname Mouse for all of my years as a Girl Scout Camp Counselor, I did not receive any special live mouse loving skills during that time. I did bring home a dead mouse in my suitcase one weekend. I guess he ate too much of my towel and died of a tummy ache. I even had the job of disposing of several dead mice we caught in our house one winter in Colorado. Luckily though, no real mice in my life since then, except at the pet store. Until today.
Now here is where I put forth my confession. For the past week or so I have noticed some suspicious black looks-like-mouse-poop bits in the cabinet next to the Cascade. But, being the Queen of De Nial, and seeing no other signs (i.e. teeth marks), I just shrugged it off. That option is officially no longer available. Darn.
So I guess that means we have to stop by the hardware store tomorrow to stock up on mousetraps. I don't really want to kill them but allowing them to live in the house and eventually move up from garbage to fresher foods isn't really a good option either.
In the meantime there is one hungry, cold, sad mouse in my backyard. Oh and it is Full Moon Day. Does this count as a family activity? Watching Mommy freak out a little while catching a mouse and settting it free?