There’s a mouse in my house!
It ran out from underneath the refrigerator to safety behind on of the radiators. It was your typical grey ugly rodent that has “disease carrier” written along its long tail – contrary to all children’s literature, there is NOTHING cute, whimsical, or charming about it.
It ran out because I disturbed it’s peace by opening the fridge to get milk for breakfast. And I watched with horror as a nightmare scurried itself around my foot to flee for safety. All my thoughts flashed to moments of my life where a rodent made an impression, and I can literally relive all those moments instantaneously – smelling rotting rodent flesh that was hidden underneath a stove one time, stepping on a mangled up rodent skull with pink flesh still attached, hearing continuous sounds of mice running inside an apartment wall and then seeing them emerge in masses after a week’s return from a vacation. My senses worked together to create one fantastic horror flick.
Now I am angry, angry at the useless cats that are freeloading down in the basement. My basement is a shelter for these three fat cats. We allowed them to come and go at will through the basement gratings because it is cold outside, and we had hoped that maybe they can help keep rodents out during the winter.
Now I have to find mice traps again – the kind that is super sticky with a peanutbutter scent. And then pray that there aren’t more mice.
I walk around the house now with the same tingling dread that I had last spring when we had the massive explosion of mice in an apartment. Yuck.