Intruder! pt. 2

The new traps were bought.  They were left in the bag, in the pantry.  A sure deterrent to any kind of pest.  Things had seem to have gone quiet.  Tonya was afraid that the little guy had pulled his feet off or something and would crawl up in the oven and die.  The thought of a rotting mouse in your oven is enough to make anyone feel uneasy.  However!  The good guy that I am, I had already checked the trap and there were no limbs left behind.  He was still in one piece, and I knew he was plotting revenge.

I don’t know why we did not lay the traps out right away.  I guess we thought we would be safe for a bit, that the mouse would have the fear in him. 

One evening around coffee time (which precedes the ritual of cooking dinner); Tonya stood in the doorway between the dining room and kitchen and said, “I saw him!  I think I just saw him!”  I get up and walk over to her and look at the fridge.  “You sure?  Where” and I start walking to the fridge.  “On the back.  He ran down the back” were the instructions Tonya gave.  I walk over and take a look.  I purposely bang the fridge, and muscle it around a bit, to see if he will drop or make a run for it.  No sign of him.  He’s a genius, well, or maybe just very small.  He has managed to evade us again, and be somewhere in back of the fridge. Awesome, from the oven to the fridge…what next.

I tell Tonya I will get the traps out and lay them.  She says not too, because she doesn’t want the dogs to mess with them, and she is about to start cooking and does not want mouse dramas in the kitchen while she is at work.  Ok.  So be it.

For the next few days, I check the traps by the oven regularly.  Still there.  No signs of chaos or trespassing. Good.  A few more days pass and no signs.  Of course by now, the thought of the traps has eluded us.  We have gotten lazy in our false reality that perhaps he left for greener pastures.

One morning we up and started our morning routine again.  Tonya had left a few tortillas wrap wrapped up and a freezer bag out which had some bread in it.  As she was starting to make the morning brew, she says aloud like a kind of Sherlock Holmes way, “A ha!   He’s back!”  I immediately look to her for whatever clue she is honing in on.  She starts to laugh, and holds up the freezer bag to show the hole nibbled into it.  Nice.  Then she is beaming brightly when she holds up two tortillas with little bite marks in both of them.  Admittedly, it is a funny sight.  I laugh too.

It appears that mice like tortillas.

The unfunny side is that this means he is crawling on the counter where we do loads of food prep and keep the fruit bowl, etc.  This geeks me out totally.  Like some sort of sissy, I immediately let out an astonished, “Does this mean he’s been crawling across my apples?” I am truly horrified.  Tonya acts the mom and reassures me that he is probably not too interested in my granny smiths, but more in the bready stuff, or the cookies and junk that may be on the counter.  In any case, I am grossed out and will not stop talking or thinking about it for quite a while.  I don’t want the plague or any other mouse disease…and I do not want him on my apples.  For him, it’s as if he has bloodlust.  He has moved from the oven to the fridge, now onto the counter and is eating holes into bags and helping himself to tortillas.  This must end-sooner than later!

Whatever.  A small mouse episode this morning will not ruin our day.  We have too much to do.  It is as good as forgotten as soon as we are finishing up the last of the coffee, and doing our routines.  We go about the things we have to do and all seems well. We venture out and do some shopping to get groceries for the next few days. Around coffee time we go over our dinner plans and go over the latest tidbits of the day.  I tell Tonya I am gonna disappear and nerd out with some computer junk or listen to records.   I get wrapped up in my clowning around and am brought back into reality when she yells, “OK.  It’s ready!”  Like some kind of kid, I am up and bounding down the stairs to an aromatic kitchen and hunger in my belly.

We are having a lovely salad and some middle-eastern food.  The salad is king, with Tonya’s secret weapon dressing.   I tell her everything is great, but it all pales in comparison to the salad.  (Yes, it is that good)  We sit and eat as it starts to rain outside.  I like the rain here, it is peaceful.  We are already discussing what movie we will watch tonight.  I suppose we were both hearing something but not saying anything, but at the exact moment we both looked at one another and said the same thing, “What is that noise?”  Tonya was quick to answer her own question, “I think it’s Dash in there, drinking water” I put my utensils down and get up to see who is making the big scene in the kitchen.  I peer in, and no one is there.  I walk back in to the den and look on the couch, all the dogs are sprawled out on the couch and chairs.  “Nope.  I guess it was just the rain”, and I return to the table to continue my Romanesque gorging on delights.  It does not take long before the commotion starts again.  We both look at one another again and simultaneously reach the same decision, “I bet it is that little bastard again” I say.  I get up and start back into the kitchen.

I stand there and look to where the noise is coming from.   There is a paper bag on the counter with some special cookies I had just bought this afternoon, my special coffee time treats.  The bag was moving, “It’s him!  He’s in the bag…” I exclaim.  Before I finish Tonya is by my side, watching the paper bag bob from side to side.  Neither of us can believe the audacity this little guy has.  I start to look closer, and do not see a hole.  I get down to table level and peer into the shadow, between the bag and the fruit bowl.  There he is.  He is keeping cover under the lip of the fruit bowl, and trying to tear his way into the bag, and then make off with my favorite cookies. “Look, he’s there, beside the bowl”, and then Tonya bends down to see the furry fiend.  My mind goes back to my initial fear and I blurt out, “I told you!  The little bastard is walking on my apples!”  Tonya asks the obvious, “What are we going to do?” I reach for the bag, and push it aside.  The little guy heads straight to the fridge.  I move to the fridge and push it out a bit, trying to follow his trail.  Like before, he’s vanished.

We sit back down and resume our meal.  Tonya says to mess with the mouse, after dinner.  Let’s just enjoy the evening now.  Anyway, there is loads of good food.  I keep looking sideways, into the kitchen to see if the little turd comes back out.  I keep a keen eye on the bag.  It could not have been 10 minutes before the bag rustles and I see him pushing it around.  I get up and Tonya immediately realizes what is going on.

“I’m getting the traps” I say as I walk into the pantry.  Tonya is perturbed.  “What are you going to do with them?  Come sit down and finish, I don’t want to deal with a mouse now” No.  I am stubborn.  I am a man and now I am faced with defeating an enemy, one who is flagrant and invasive.  I have decided that this will end, tonight.  As I am opening the traps, Tonya is lamenting form the dining room, “I don’t want to deal with a dead mouse while I am eating”

“He won’t die.  He is just going to be stuck” I say back.

“Well, you’ll kill him…”she says back.

“No I won’t.  He will be stuck.  All I am going to do is pick him up and throw him in the trash”

“Yeah, but then he will be dying…”

“Look.  I am tired of this little turd messing around with us.  Look at him!  He is coming out trying to steal our stuff while we are sitting here!” I am sure I have pulled the traps apart and I lay one at the side of the fridge, and the other on the counter, beside the fridge, directly in his path to my apples and cookies.

“What did you do, where did you put them?” Tonya asks from the table.

“I put one beside the fridge and the other on the counter” I explain as I sit back down.  Tonya looks a bit worried and continues, “Well…what if he comes back out?  He’s going to get stuck on the counter” I suppose this is the difference between male and female logic.  I try to explain to Tonya the strategy of placing it right where he will definitely go.  I want this to end, and I know he will be back out in no time.  To her, she is not so grossed out about him crawling around on the counter, or getting my cookies and apples.  She is more concerned about a trapped mouse on the counter during dinner, and what the ensuing entrapment will mean.  She is reading way too much in to it all.

Maybe it was five minutes.  We are in mid conversation when the sound of a plastic trap scooting along a wooden counter could be heard. I immediately put my fork down, “A ha you bastard!” and I head to the kitchen.  Tonya gets up to.  She blurts out something like “I don’t want to see this” I grab a plastic bag I had waiting on the opposite counter.  Tonya goes outside; I ask her where she is going. “Going outside!  I am going to open the trash for you…” and her voice trails off.  I got my bag and then turn to my enemy.  He’s looking at me.  I can’t help but feel a bit thrilled that he fell for it.  At the same time, I feel a bit sad.  From this very moment, there is no turning back.  I stand there for a minute and look at him.  He is small, kind of cute.  He is trying to get off and keeping an eye on the tall guy with the bag.  Tonya yells from outside, “What’s happening?”  I yell back something about me just about to grab him.  I do feel sad, reaching for the trap.  He goes still and just looks at me sideways.  I have a brief thought of, ‘what if he turns on me.  I do not want dirty mouse teeth going into my fingers and me having to get rabies shots in my stomach’  My paranoia causes me to reach with extra caution.  I grab the corner of the trap, and slip it into the bag.  I tie it up, and head out side.

It is drizzling pretty heavy, and my eyes have not adjusted to the darkness. I ask quite abruptly, “Where are you?” to Tonya.  I don’t see her.  From the shadows I hear a very stern “I am here…” and she appears and walks right past.  She is angry.  She says I was yelling at her.  I told her I didn’t mean anything by it.  I am just a guy with a mouse in a bag trying to find the other trash bag in the darkness and drizzle. Before I can explain, she is already inside.  I drop the intruder off, and head back in, careful not to slip on the wet tiles inside.  Tonya is upset.  “That’s it.  I am finished” she says grabbing her cigarettes.  I am no clue what just happened. “You think I like messing with a mouse while I am trying to eat?” I say while washing my hands. “I lost my appetite. I told you I did not want a dead mouse during my dinner…” she says as she heads to smoke a cigarette of frustration. The logic kicks in, “He’s not dead!” I say.  From somewhere else in the house a quick and stern “…but he will be!” comes shooting out.

So.  I defeated my foe, and now sit alone at the dinner table.  Tonya is fuming and will not come back.  Yes, she truly has lost her appetite.  I am discouraged too. I have some solace though,  knowing  I defeated my foe and would have some sort of peace tonight….from the mouse, maybe not Tonya.    I sit alone at the table, like a complete fool, and clean my plate. It is good, and I eat some more.  Like I said, the salad is amazing!