“What’s with Rosie?” Aaron asked this morning as I walked out of the bedroom still half asleep after the kids jumped on us when their clock turned green at 6am.
Rosie was in the laundry room, barking whilst desperately scratching at the outside door. She went out her little doggie door a couple times, but quickly came back in again to scratch at the door.
“Maybe there’s a bug or something.” I said. She loves hunting things, and we get a lot of crickets in the house. I probably should have investigated a bit, but it was my sleep in day, so I didn’t. Instead, we ignored her while Aaron played with the kids and I made a cup of tea to take with me back to bed.
For ages, I could hear her scratching and barking.
When it was time for me to get up, the kids and I played fetch with her to get some of her excitement out. Rosie chases after the ball like a little deer, bounding down the hallway randomly as she runs. After I put the ball away, something small, black, and furry caught my eye. It was scurrying very fast, but there was no mistaking it’s identity. A mouse was making a break for the living room. I only saw it for a few seconds before it disappeared behind the heavy bookshelf.
Naturally, I did what most girls would do in that situation: I yelled for Aaron. “AARON, THERE’S A MOUSE IN THE HOUSE!!!!!!” Not only that, I was yelling to the kids as well. “GET ON THE COUCH! BOTH OF YOU, GET ON THE COUCH!!!!”
Because obviously all mice are rabid people eaters whose sole purpose in life is to bite me and my children, and I don’t think the kids would be particularly fond of rabies shots. Or the plague. Or hantavirus. Or whichever other diseases mice could possibly carry.
Aaron helped me pull the shelf away from the wall, revealing the little brown mouse hiding behind it. Stupidly I called Rosie around to the pulled out side. She ran in, scaring the mouse out the other side. It ran frantically from the shelf to under the couch, out of Rosie’s reach.
They may be cute, but disease carrying, pooping everywhere mice have no place in a house. Unless it’s in a cage…. Image courtesy of wikipedia.
The kids were beside themselves with excitement, elated that they caught a glimpse of the cute little mouse. Rosie ran around the couch, trying to find a way to fit herself under it so she could bag herself a hunting trophy. We haven’t seen it since. Maybe it’s still under the couch. Maybe it’s under the shelf. Maybe it’s in my bed. I have no idea because we went to church this morning, via Bunnings to get mouse traps, so we were gone for almost 3 hours. It could be anywhere by now. Maybe there are more mice. I don’t know. Rosie did catch one outside a while ago (then she brought the dead mouse inside and put it in Aaron’s lap), after it/they chewed holes in the bag of dog food in the garage.
They also chewed holes in my potting soil. And in the bag of dinosaur poop. It’s not really dinosaur poop, it’s Dino fert, an organic fertiliser that has a cartoon dinosaur on the front and stinks. Daniel and Hannah called it dinosaur poop and the name stuck.
Yesterday I put all the soil, the dinosaur poop, and the lawn dressing into thick plastic garbage bins in the garage and swept up all the remnants that leaked out of the chewed bags. I guess the mouse (mice maybe?) was hungry and came to the house instead. It makes sense, but that doesn’t make it less annoying.
If only I’d listened to Rosie this morning when she so desperately wanted to get at the mouse that must have been between the screen door and the regular door in the laundry room. Maybe then we wouldn’t have to set traps and dispose of a cute little annoying mouse probably with a broken neck from the snap trap. Yuck. But I don’t want it in the house either, so let’s hope the traps work. Or that it comes out long enough for Rosie to get it. She would certainly love that.
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Copyright 2014 Sheri Thomson
Mommy Adventures 
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