A Mouse in the House
May 02, 2006

I'll start off by telling you that we don't kill things in our house. It's a Buddhism thing. Or maybe a karma thing? Anyhow, we are not Buddhist, but respect the wishes of those who live in the house and are Buddhist. Spiders are captured and placed back outside. Ants are free to roam about the walls and counters. We even have a bugzooka to aid with the displacement of most small insects. So when it was discovered that there were mice in the house, we didn't set any traps. We also figured that cats were probably too lazy to do anything about it. One of them is afraid of cat treats, a live mouse would surely have him scampering in the other direction.

Which brings us to last Wednesday. It started out like most mornings. Shower, coffee, breakfast, prepare for long car ride. Right before we were ready to go, the boyfriend enters the kitchen and mentions that one of the cats has had an accident in the den. While he's trying to gather together things he'll need for work and school, I grab a wad of paper towels, and investigate the den. While I'm cleaning up the 'accident', I notice something next to the floor board at the other end of the rug. In the dark, it was hard to tell, but it looked like a rose bud.

Reasons I thought this thing may have been a rosebud: it was 7am, it was dark, the cats had been playing with the flowers from one of the indoor plants, and I know cats who have fake rosebuds as toys. Oh! And the coffee. It was only half caffeinated.

Yes, I'm really going blame the coffee.

So, I've got a wad of paper towels containing something gross in one hand, and I reach down and pick up the 'rose bud' with my other hand. My bare hand. And it takes me a second to realize that this thing that I've just touched with my bare hand is definitely NOT A ROSE BUD. It's slightly furry, kinda soft, and kind of wet. For a half-caffeinated brain, I'm suprirsed at how quick it was able to piece thoughts together, because I suddenly realized that what I actually had in my hand was a mouse head. I WAS HOLDING A DEAD MOUSE HEAD. It's not every Wednesday that you find yourself standing in then den at 7am with two very gross things in BOTH hands.

Things I have learned from the mouse head adventure: The cats? Definitely not lazy. Coffee? It should ALWAYS be fully caffeinated. Picking things up off the floor? Never again. Not without proper protection, like paper towels, gloves, or a Hazmat suit.



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© Whitney Brandt-Hiatt: All writing, images, and photogrpahy are the property of Whitney Brandt-Hiatt unless otherwise noted.