The Mouse Hunt

So, I wanted to have a little party - just a small one. Snacks, pizza, video games. Just a few friends, because my mother was leaving town for the weekend & gave permission. So I invited five people. Granted, I didn't expect ALL of them to be free. But what I didn't expect was only ONE being free. So Abby & I had some snacks, some pizza, some video games . . . & around 2:30, decided that it would be a good idea to go to bed.

So Abby brushes her teeth & I'm going through some papers & she stands next to me for a second & I see a little flash of movement out of the corner of my eye. Now, my mother & I have been after a mouse we have for a LONG time. He has been SO CLOSE to freaking IN OUR HANDS & still gotten away. SO I pursue the notion that perhaps, that little flash was the mouse. At that point, it could have been a shadow. And at 2:30 in the morning, I would have let it go - if I didn't see him, clear as day, scurry across the library. I've had enough. I am so tired of this mouse that I get the flashlight. No more humane traps that he outsmarts. No more hours on end trying to trap him the good old fashioned way & having him escape because we were too damned dainty about it. This beautiful mag light was calling to me as both an object of illumination & a tool for a good bludgeoning. I stomped into the library making no attempt to sneak up on him. He was no good to me in the library. A while ago, we had something done where a repairman had to go through the bathroom closet & a lot of the things that were in the closet (along with a few other miscellaneous objects) were still in the library. He WAS in my room. If he went back in there, it was small & clean & I'd have him before long. But, no. So I wanted to flush him out more than anything else.

Eventually, my frustration got the best of me & I was tripping more than anything else, so I stepped out of the library & Abby did some organized rummaging. Finally, she found a loose board & said, "oh . . . I found the door . . . he may not be in here anymore . . ." & after a few seconds, I said, "Nope, he's here. Just went into the closet." That's when we set up. I sat at the exit of the library – RIGHT next to the closet, might I add . . . this room was built for catching mice – with a basket to drop on him as he ran out & Abby set up obstacles all around the closet. When he came out of the closet, he'd be in MY arena. So she rummaged . . . & rummaged . . . & rummaged . . . & we waited . . . & she rummaged . . . & all of a sudden, she yelled, "He's in your court!!" Of course, by the time she'd taken the breath to say that, adrenaline had been released into my system as I saw the mouse run to me. The mouse saw me, & saw my basket. The basket started to come down & he ran the other way. "Back to you!!" In a second he came running back toward me & I had decided to wait until he got to a certain point so I would not miss again, & I actually saw the mouse go, "Fuck!" as he jumped into the air & did an about face & zoomed back in the other direction. One final time he came running back to me – mind you, this has all been happening within maybe 6 seconds – & I saw this mouse make a decision, & I've been mousing before. And I know it's a decision they sometimes make. Which is why I had my legs straddled to cut off any space on wither side of me. This decision was, "Screw it . . . I can MAKE IT!!" And he ran toward me as his final hope. Now . . . mice like . . . corners, I guess . . . & I really don't know why he thought there was a way out, but this mouse ran full speed between my legs. And stops. Because that's definitely not a way out. And I said, "Oh, shit!" because the last time a mouse tried to take refuge under a body part of mine, I managed to use that bad decision of his to trap him by just grabbing him . . . but I got bit. SO there's a million things going through my head in less than a second . . . 'how do I deal with this? . . . I've GOT him! . . . now, how do I deal with this' & Abby, who just heard me swear in surprise, says, "What?"

I prepare to tell her where the mouse chose to run & apparently I took a second too long. There's not too many places you can go from his position, but he chose UP. I got out the word, 'he' before I clutched at my chest & – I loathe to admit – screamed. The mouse was UP MY HOODIE. I got up in the morning & threw on what I saw. I don't have a shirt on under my hoodie. So the mouse scales my bare skin & I try to grab at him from the outside of my hoodie . . . which has a very obnoxiously stiff logo that got in the way. He's nestled in my cleavage & I'm going, "I don't know what to do . . ." & I start to look down, wondering if I could keep him where he was with one hand & reach in with the other. And he started to come up. I realized if he jumped out of the collar, I'd NEVER get him back. So I grabbed him hard through the hoodie & let him crawl up to my shoulder where the material isn't so thick. I held him there & reached in & got his tail. I got Abby to get a cigar box that I had & didn't quite know what to use for (guess it found its use) & took him out of my hoodie by the tail & dropped him into the cigar box.

My mother always told me not to just let a mouse out right outside your house . . . because he knows your house . . . & apparently how to get in. So I passed on the knowledge to Abby & said I'd be going for a drive. She volunteered to come along & hold the box for me. We get halfway to the car & Abby – not feeling the mouse moving in the box – wonders if he is still in there & gave it a good shake. And there is nothing funnier than hearing the sound of a small mammal's body (that's been pissing you off for weeks) rattle around in a small wooden box in the hands of someone who has a 'what's in THIS Christmas box?' look on her face at 4 in the morning. And yes, this ordeal took us until 4 in the morning. After we finished laughing, I drove the little bastard to a corner with M&T bank & a Starbucks. Yum . . . pound cake. He should be very happy. That is – provided he survives the cold of the night.

And at some point during the whole thing – though I cannot pinpoint when – the scariest thing in the world occurred to me. We've only ever had one mouse. It's always been The Mouse. There was a mouse in the old apartment . . . & we've had a mouse before . . . but, this mouse . . . this mouse was grey. And the one that had us terrorized when my mother & I tried catching it was a beautiful chocolate brown. We have MICE. Shit.