Three ways to deal with a mouse

One way

One morning at the cottage, I was still in bed when the cats came chasing through the bedroom. I paid attention fast. Sit up. Listen. Watch. See what is happening. Fun and games or… something else? Uh oh. Something else altogether. A chase, a real chase. Two cats after one mouse. Now I could make out the squeaking, squealing of the poor little rodent. And then, before I knew what I was doing, I heard myself squeal, too. “Ewwwww. Val!!!!! It’s a mouse.” And I scooted further up into the bed, away from the sides. (Oh boy. Talk about reacting like a cartoon female, but it happened before I knew what I was doing; don’t judge. I’m still trying to forgive myself.) Val corralled the mouse, trapped it in a jar, and took it outside — back to nature where it belonged.

Another way

One evening at the cottage, again, there was a noise. No squealing this time, but a sort of tiny rattling. I heard it, but it was Val who walked into the kitchen and saw a mouse scrabbling down the microwave power cord. Quick as a wink, she grabbed the poor little rodent by its tail, I opened the back door, and she took it outside — back to nature where it belonged.

A third way

Mid-day in the city, about ten days ago. I had been out for the morning and when I came home Val said she had to tell me something and that I was not to get hysterical. She is very good at building up to the main point . . . s l o w l y. Finally, she said it: “We have a mouse.” “Oh,” I said, not entirely surprised, because the previous evening, when I was down at my writing desk, I had heard a scrabbling noise that I had only ever heard at the cottage before — that unmistakable sound of tiny tiny claws trying to get purchase somewhere. But I had dismissed it (something I am very good at doing when I don’t really want to believe something) because, after all, this is the city house, mice are a cottage thing and we no longer have the cottage, ergo — no way could that noise be a mouse. Impeccable logic, right?

Wrong, it turns out.

Val had actually SEEN the mouse, had come “face to face” with it in her downstairs studio/office. “So sweet,” said Val, the soft-hearted human who loves every sentient being no matter what or where. “Sweet, maybe,” said I, “but we need to deal with it. I’ll get some live traps.” Which I did. But they were hard to open and Val couldn’t bear the thought of the mouse being trapped overnight in that tiny plastic space, so we procrastinated baiting the traps and putting them down.

Long story short, several days later when I was downstairs — very aware that a tiny rodent might be watching me from a corner with its beady little eyes, I moved the laundry basket and BAM, there it was: the mouse. Very cute, as Val had said, and also very dead. I called Val, who dealt with it by scooping the body onto a piece of cardboard and taking it back to nature where it belonged.

Note 1: In my life, the way to deal with a mouse — dead or alive — is to call for Val. I deal with plenty of ‘stuff’, but rodents are her domain. It’s good to have a clear division of labour in a relationship.

Note 2: How did that cute little rodent get into our otherwise-mouse-free city house? We think it must have scampered in when Val left the back door open so that Holly, our cat, could contemplate whether or not she wanted to brave the cold outdoors. A soft heart can lead to unwelcome house guests.

Note 3: Holly is going to be 17 in April and she says, in no uncertain terms, that her mouse-catching days are over. In the early days of having the cottage, it was fun, she says; however, the city house is her retirement home (see photo above). Every cat has their limits; their humans simply live with them.

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POSTSCRIPT

Could my mouse-in-the-city-house story be a political metaphor? Maybe.

• A mouse belongs in nature, not in a house.
• Should a mouse get into the house, it is necessary to have an intrepid mouse catcher on hand. This might not be you, but it must be someone. 
• Catch the mouse in any state you can and return it to nature where it belongs.

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Land acknowledgement: I respectfully recognize that I live on the original lands of Anishinaabe, Cree, Oji-Cree, Dakota and Dene peoples, and on the homeland of the Métis Nation.