THERE'S A MOUSE IN MY CUPBOARD!

 

Even with my hearing just about gone, I could hear something scratching inside the kitchen cabinets. Even the remote possibility of mice fills me with disgust, dread, and fear. I can't stand the nasty little buggers.  

 

The following day, I called Steve, my good friend and contractor, about the mice. "You might think I'm a strong, independent woman, but I can't tolerate mice," I told him. "What's even worse are mice traps. I don't want to set them, and I certainly don't want to see or hear a mouse after it's been trapped."

 

Steve laughed and asked if I had any peanut butter. I didn't because I have an eating disorder and would probably keep eating spoonsful of peanut butter late at night until the jar was empty. Since Steve is an excellent friend and tolerant of my many neuroses, he set two mouse traps in my cabinet. I bought substantial plastic containers to seal the cat and dog food bags I had previously stored in the cupboard. That's what the mouse or mice want.

 

For several weeks, I cautiously looked in the cabinet every morning to see if there was a dead mouse. While I shudder at the thought, I'm thankful that Steve has offered to retrieve it when the time comes. There have been no trapped mice in my house. My friend, Nancy, asked me the other night if there were any mice droppings. I am still waiting to see them. She reminded me that I have six feral cats outside my front door and back patio, so the chances are the cats would have captured any mice before they came into my house. I pointed out that I feed the cats very well. There's a possibility that a mouse avoided the cats and came visiting the night I heard scratching.

 

I don't like to kill anything, as it's bad Karma, but I have to admit that I make an exception regarding mice. They are dirty little things. Besides, Steve is the killer. After serving as a marksman in the first Iraq War, he's good at it. One day, I'll tell the story about Steve's experience as a police officer in downtown Austin and women dressed in skimpy clothes during SXSW wanting to have their picture taken with him. They would ask to be handcuffed, and he happily complied. I offered that his experience in handcuffing girls must have been much more fun than shooting people. He agreed.

 

Back to the mice:  Several nights ago, I heard a slight tapping inside my cabinets. I am seriously hearing impaired and don't have my hearing aids. I can't always hear when someone knocks on the front door, but Paddy does and runs barking to greet whoever might be there. Paddy didn't even lift his head. The tapping continued for a few minutes. I opened the cabinets but found nothing lurking in them. 

 

I've entered the Twilight Zone.

 

 


 

 

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