One day, her young family had grown to the point that she gathered her 5 children close, looked at them with her little, dark, beady eyes and said with a tremor in her squeak: “I have done my best with you. I have taught you all I know. It is now time for you to go forth and conquer your world.” So, bravely these small, young creatures scampered forth, pausing only a moment to wave fondly at their furry mother.
It was a dark, cold November evening (Monday 24th to be precise). Mouse #1 had made it into a warm, well lit apartment. The smell of food was in the air. Oh happy days. Oops, he had been spotted, as he rounded the refrigerator in search of the food, he realized that the food smell was coming from the table and there were two people sitting at the table eating his food; how dare they. (This should sound a little familiar from the previous post). Mouse #1 quickly went back into hiding determining to be more careful. Later that same evening, as the 1st floor mother was typing a blog post about her woes, mouse #1 carefully scurried behind the piano, just feet away from the computer. He then commenced to eat, not caring at all that his chomping sounds were really noisy. As the dear mother sat stunned in her chair, frozen in silence, wondering what damage was being done to her piano old mousy boy ate on. He had arrived, he was in control. He was underestimating.
The husband’s presence was quickly requested at home. The dear husband, upon arriving accused the 1st floor mother of making things up; then he heard and saw for himself. Reinforcement was called and Mr. Brennen soon came to the rescue. And so, the two brave men armed with broom and yardstick moved in close to the piano. Slowly and carefully this large musical instrument was slid out from the wall. This caused the young mouse to panic, run and disappear farther under the piano; this caused the 1st floor mother to screech out a warning. The mother was carefully perched on the arm of the couch, holding large objects as a barricade to hopefully keep the little guy somewhat contained.
As brave husband used the yardstick to slide out mouse #1, brave Mr. Brennen held the broom poised over head for the strike. Mousy discovered a hole leading up into the body of the piano. So the front had to be removed from the piano, and the mouse could be seen running back and forth inside the piano. Finally bravery and brains prevailed and mouse #1 made the fatal mistake of allowing the yardstick to push him out onto the floor to far and with a very loud “whap” “whap” of the broom on the hard wood floor, Mr. B made his move. (This noise brought the young son straight up in his crib, yelling out his own warnings. But mother was right there, still carefully perched on the arm of the couch.) Now mousy was captured in the bristles of the broom and brave husband stood on the broom to finish the job. Family #1 went to bed rejoicing and hoping that life would soon return to normal. Mother Mouse, on the other hand, was filled with great sorrow. She had lost two children on this cold dark night. (Remember the one on the basement floor from previous post)
November 25, dawned cold and sunshiny. Mother Mouse cautiously sent out her remaining children. (We know that there were at least 3….time will tell….)
Family #1 had other serious things on their minds, (which don’t have anything to do with this post, so to conserve space will be left out.) So in the afternoon, when things had calmed down a bit, Nana, who had been visiting her young grandson made a startling yet comical discovery. A mouse (imagine that, in this house) came running out onto the kitchen floor, skittering on the linoleum, not able to get traction (yes, just like in the movies). This creature, we shall call him Mouse #2, found a safe hiding place behind the stove. Once again, brave husband was called who again called in his trusted mouse killing, broom wielding friend. The weapons of choice were the broom and yardstick. The stove was slid out, tension was high, hair was standing on end, another moment of truth was had hand. The 1st floor mother was standing at the edge of the kitchen, clutching her young son. Nana stood guard close by. The yardstick was slid across the floor, no mouse. Again the yardstick was called upon to do its job, again no mouse. The stove was unplugged and tilted at an angle for better viewing purposes. This did the trick, “Whap” Whap” went the broom, stomp, stomp went the foot and squash, squash went Mouse #2.
Yipee said the first floor family.
By now the first floor family had once again started to work, searching diligently and frantically for the hole that had been missed on a previous patching session. Employing the help of Nana, who is vary wise in the ways of mice. More sticky traps were set up. “Great Stuff” was again brought to the scene. Action, Cleaning, Searching, Patching.
As the 1st floor mother walked purposefully into the kitchen to throw away a large bag, what should run right past her trash can. No you say, it can’t be, oh but it was. Enter Mouse #3. Of course the 1st floor mother had to get everyone’s attention quickly, she loudly screeched and ran quickly into the other room to make sure brave husband and Nana had heard her warning. This earned her a scolding for not keeping her eye on the critter, and what good did it do to yell, besides to scare her young son. Mouse #3 was quickly dispatched to another world. Using pretty much the same method as before. Brave husband used the broom to “whap” “whap” and Nana did the stomp, stomp. Exit Mouse #3.
The family narrowed the search; the mouse activity seemed to be in the kitchen. As the tired family stood there in the kitchen out of the northwest corner came Mouse #4. The broom had to be quickly retrieved from the porch where it had been tossed after unmentionable liquid had gotten on it after the last killing frenzy. “Whap” “Whap”, Stomp, Stomp Squash, Squash. We were getting faster, and the 1st floor mother was no longer yelling out warnings.
Nana, wise in the ways of mice, discovered a small crack between the wall and cupboard in the northwest corner of the kitchen. “Great Stuff” again to the rescue. The hole was sealed.
So now the 1st floor mother again sits before her computer, whirling around occasionally, straining her ears for crunching sounds, jumping at things that aren’t there. Is the job done? Did the other mother only have 5 children? (Review: 3 in the kitchen, 1 under the piano, 1 on the basement floor) Is the other mother sad at the fate of her children, does she feel responsible? Has she called a meeting of all the mice in the area and are even now, as I type planning a revolt? Maybe her children were jihads or kamikazes and she is rejoicing that they are receiving their just rewards.
The 1st floor mother will conquer, she will prevail, and she will regain control.
Disclaimer: Several animals were injured and killed in the making of this story.
Special Thanks: Mr. Brennen, thanks for your courage and bravery.
Nana, thank you for your wisdom on mice
Brave Husband, thank you for all your hard work.
The Brave Team: First Kill
Action! This is not for the faint of heart