It was a sunny afternoon. The cats were in the backyard, enjoying some outside time and I was on the couch contemplating life, the universe and everything … or watching Netflix .. whatever!
I looked up when I noticed Polly come running down the hall, and saw something strange. She was holding something quite large in her mouth.
Look at the picture! Polly is the one in the chair. She’s soft and meek and sweet and adorable I tell you!
I got up and walked toward her and saw that she had a big, brown mouse in her mouth! It was big enough to be hanging over both sides of her mouth! Eeek!
I walked toward her and that’s when it happened. The mouse moved!
She hadn’t even killed it!
I would like to say that I kept my cool and quietly ushered Polly and the mouse back into the yard where it would be set free. I would like to say that but it would be a damn, dirty lie!
Reality went something like this, “ERIC POLLY HAS A MOUSE AND IT’S MOVING AND IT’S NOT DEAD AND SHE’S GOT IT IN HER MOUTH AND SHE’S IN THE HOUSE AND HOLY SHIT HOLY SHIT HOLY SHIT!!!!”
I never said I’d be good in an emergency!
Polly started freaking out, can’t think why, and headed for the stairs. The stairs! That lead up to my bedroom. Where I sleep! MOUSE FREE!
She got about 5 steps up and I decided it was time to stop freaking out. I went back into the living room, did some deep breathing and told myself to stop freaking out. Totally nailed it.
Back to the stairs I went, all calm and serene. I talked to Polly in my high-pitched, I-love-cats voice and she calmed down and stopped going upstairs. Success!
Drawback – she dropped the mouse. Onto the stairs. The live, gigantic mouse.
By this time Abby had made her way onto the stairs as well. She was likely drawn to the fracas by my screaming. So nosy!
Eric had also been drawn to the noise … finally! Sheesh! I could have been dying of mouse inflicted bites by then.
Now that the mouse was loose I knew I had to catch it. I had noticed that its sides were all wet and I thought it was covered in blood and now there would be mouse blood all over my house! I hate housework so something had to be done.
I approached stealthily up the stairs. The mouse ran past Abby and right off the end of the stair and on to the floor.
It was at this point that my calm and serene facade started to crack a wee bit.
Eric was standing in the hallway and I asked him nicely to bring me something I could catch the mouse in. My exact words,
“ERIC, I NEED A BUCKET! BRING ME A BUCKET! A BUCKET!!!!!!”
He was understandably confused. Why a bucket? There’s a mouse loose in the house and you want a bucket? Are you going to do some mopping?
Let’s take a short break here while I explain why I required a bucket. When there is a wasp loose in the house, I gently catch it in a cup, use a piece of paper to cover the opening and then set it free outside. No one gets hurt! Everyone wins!
Now, I didn’t really want to catch a mouse in a cup because no amount of washing would ever make that cup usable again and the mouse was quite a bit bigger than a wasp and I didn’t think it would even fit into a cup. So my frantic brain took the next logical step and called for a bucket. Perfectly sound thinking!
Back to the story … Mouse, Eric, bucket! Once he realized what I was trying to do Eric brought me a box. I had to work with the tools available. It was no bucket, but I persevered!
I put the box over the mouse and Eric brought me a flat piece of cardboard to put under it. I scooped it up and ran outside.
I flipped the box over because I had to check on the mouse. If its legs were broken or it was close to dying or something then I couldn’t just put it outside. Eric would have to end its life humanely and then we’d have a funeral.
I took off the cover and there was wee mousey. Scared and covered in … drool. Polly hadn’t even punctured its skin. She’s all teeth and claws but she brought a mouse into my house and did nothing more than drool all over it. Weirdo!
Mousey’s legs were working and he was blood free and the drool would dry eventually so off into the garden he went. Psychologically scarred for life.
It was a few weeks later. Once again the cats were in the backyard, enjoying some outside time and I was on the couch working on my Autobiography … or watching Netflix .. don’t judge me!
Polly ran in, mouse free, meeped at me and then ran back out.
I got up and went to the back door to see what the meeps were about and there, lying on the patio stone, was another mouse. Dead this time. For reals. Gross!
I thanked Polly for the gift and went back to my important business.
Later on I scooped up the dead mouse into an old Timmy’s cup and put it on the BBQ. The lid was on, what do you want from me?
I figured I should throw it in the garbage, but the cup was as far as I could get that day.
The next day I went out to get the cup and dispose of it but it had moved.
It was on the ground. Lid off. Mouse gone.
The mouse was dead, people. I know that for sure. So something out there in my backyard likes to eat day old dead, coffee smelling mice!
I’m never going out there again!