Mouse in the House (Part Two)

Okay, so way back at the beginning of my last post, I mentioned that we haven't had any wild animals in our house since . . . last night. Well, here's how things went down.

A few days ago, the girls (aka the resident security team) started acting strangely. Every time I went to the basement, they raced past me and sniffed all over the floor. They always smell around a little bit, as dogs are wont to do, but they were going crazy. Aubrey and I both felt that something was proverbially up.

Last night, we went to bed, and the girls were really riled up. They were sniffing baseboards, radiator pipe holes, and just about anything else that might conceal a little animal. We looked around with them for awhile, determined there was nothing to be done, and went to bed.

At midnight, Aubrey woke me up. "John," she said, "the girls just raced downstairs. Will you go check it out?"

Groggily, I rolled out of bed, wandered downstairs and watched as the girls wagged their tails profusely and sniffed all around the house. Again, after determining there was nothing much I could accomplish, I encouraged them to go back to bed, and I returned as well.

Sometime around 3:30, Idgie barked outside our bedroom door. Aubrey nudged me again. "John, Idgie's barking." I groggily again rolled out of bed and went to see what the matter was.

Idgie, left. Lucy, right.

Upon opening the door, Idgie was doing her best Lassie impression. She was kind of nodding down the stairs. "What's that Idgie?" I asked. "Billy's fallen in the old mine shaft?" So, I followed her and she proudly led me to her sister. Lucy was perched patiently in front of the stove. I listened, heard nothing, and determined it yet another false alarm. But this time I got it in my head that I would prove to the girls that nothing was going on.

I opened a cabinet door. "See," I said. "Nothing."

I opened another cabinet door. "See," I said. "Nothing."

I pulled open the pan drawer below the stove, and in a flash a big mouse leapt straight out at me. Being somewhat groggy and in low light conditions, I freaked out a bit. I jumped back a step. Idgie, the proud sniffer, also bowed out to the left, surprised by the bold mouse leaping through the still night air. Lucy, without hesitation, jumped up, snatched the mouse right out of the air with one powerful chomp and dropped it dead to the ground. It was amazing. Split second reaction perfectly executed.

The girls smelled the dead mouse for a minute while I gathered my wits and a garbage bag with which to pick it up. Then the excitement was over. I did not return to bed. Instead, I devoted the next several hours to cleaning and sterilizing everything in the kitchen that could have possibly been tainted by this mouse's foul touch.

Lucy's always been a great ball player. She's always seeking someone to throw a ball to her or to play a little tug of war. We've practiced tossing the ball in a low arc ahead and a little above her so many times that it's second nature for her to leap out and snatch it out of the air. I always enjoy the play time with the girls, but last night I learned it has some incredible practical use as well.

Gone are the days when I have to electrocute mice with cattle prods or smash them ruthlessly underfoot. I have dogs.