part deux, stuart's revenge.

Still not a single mouse snared. They mock me with their proliferation of poop.

so Seth and I were watching TV the other night and I notice the dog is not on his usual spot on the couch and indeed in staring rather intently at a box in the dining room. My mouse-dar kicks into high gear and I mute the TV.

Me: I think he sees a mouse
Seth: No, he doesn't he doesn't care about mice, remember?
Me: (Considers this explanation and weigh the options of hysteria or denial. The dog meanwhile, has begun to paw at the box and whimper, in his best "Would one of you people with opposable thumbs get over here and help me get what I want")
"He definitely sees a mouse. Go in there and see if you can hear it."
Seth: You're coming with me.
We approach the box with stealth. OK, Seth walks over and I perch on the edge of the dining room.
Seth: I don't hear anything.
Windy: It's waiting to lull us into a false sense of security
Seth: I don't think a mouse would be in there, I bet the dog scarred it away.
Windy: OK, well take the box outside to make sure.
Seth: Fine, just take some stuff of the top so I can close that
Windy: (I creep closer to remove said items attempting not to actually be near the box in any way. This is proving unsuccessful)
Seth: Stop it. The mouse is gone, just move the stuff
Windy: Ok, fine.

I start gingerly moving things. After about four items, the mouse springs into action, as I thought, and lunges at me, teeth barred and growling. OK it scurried frantically and squealed, but it was in my general direction. Recall the fear of scurrying in the earlier post. And notice the me being rightness about the mouse in the box. The mouse actually can't get out so Seth bravely closes the box without touching it with his hands and places a empty box on top to further prevent escape. And then he puts about 4 pairs of shoes that happen to be nearby in the empty box, because mice are often known for their super-mouse strength when their back is to the wall... or box. So Seth then precedes to scoot, not carry, the box outside with his feet and a broom handle. OK, box is outside, check. Just have to turn on the outside lights... rats the outside lights are burnt out. BUT WAIT, we have replacement bulbs! Rats, the lights are now home to a wasp nest. We have a brief discussion about whether or not wasps sleep and if they would notice and incredibly loud grinding noise inches from their home. Scrap the light idea. What we need is a flashlight. Ok, where is the flashlight? Hmmmm... When was the last time we saw a flashlight? Didn't we get one for Christmas? A search of the house reveals not a single flashlight. Brief discussion of the feasibility of using a candle. No good. Finally we unearth a fluorescent light meant to be placed under counters but due to faulty glue has spent most of it's tenure in our house behind the microwave. Of course with some serious anti-mouse loud noise precautions taken before diving behind the microwave.

So, I'm in place behind the closed (and locked, can't be too careful) kitchen door, shining the light onto the carport where Seth is prepared to do battle with the mouse. He tips the box over with a loud bang. Did I mention that the majority content of this box was cans with an errant bag of rice at the bottom? There was no gentle tipping involved here, this was a full on dumping. I picture a squished mouse plastered to a can of green beans and nearly yurk in the sink.

Windy: Did you see it run away?
Seth: um, no
Windy: Can we leave the box out there until morning or forever?
Seth: No, we don't know what else will come after the stuff in this box.
Windy: Good point, let's move.
Seth: We can't move tonight.
Windy: Ok, hotel?
Seth: No, dog.
Windy: Stupid dog. He's crafty, he'll figure out to rough it for... a couple of weeks.
Seth: No.

After much prodding of the spilled contents of the box with the broom handle, no mousy bits or full mouse has been found. So we pick through the box and keep what we want, asuming the mouse did, in fact escape.

I can comfort myself and (delusionaly) believe that there was only one mouse in our house and we have removed it and that it did not, in fact, find it's way back into the house. I hope it met a particularly crunchy end in the claws of a particularly malevolent owl.