In Which a Mouse Wreaks Havoc on Erica's Morning

First of all, I am starting a letter campaign to both AAA Trash and Recycling and also to the Fairfax Couty people who make ordinances and the like. 6am is too damn early for trash trucks to come into our neighborhood. No amount of velcro keeps "the basura" as it is affectionately known around here from waking Elisabeth up. The morning did not get off to a great start.





I come downstairs. Doug, who bless his heart got up with the beasts at 6am in hopes of making it downstairs to use the elliptical machine, tells me that there is good news and bad news. You decide if there is actually good news. The bad news, he starts with, is that there is a mouse. The good news - the cats have it "treed" on our mantle. (Apologies for the mess around the cats. Our house seems to always look like we threw a rave for 3 yr olds the night before)

Elisabeth and Doug seemed moderately amused by the situation. I, on the other hand, was not amused. There were really only two outcomes (or so I thought) - 1, the mouse would die by cat while I watched or 2, the mouse would escape, and his escape path would inevitably involve me. Within 5 or so minutes, Willy made his move (he's the cat to the right in the picture). Sure enough, he caught that mouse. There was much squeaking on the part of the mouse, and perhaps a little shrieking on my part. Doug remained safely in the kitchen, I'll have you know.

As Willy then made his way across the family room floor, with the mouse IN HIS MOUTH - I had my eyes shut tight and held on to Charlotte for dear life. I was certain the cat was heading my way with the mouse as some kind of sick present (I've caught him with a mouse in his mouth heading into our bedroom...). Squeaking, shrieking continues. Willy stops; I holler for Doug to start doing something about the situation. Finally Willy continues, with the mouse, into the utility room. Then - for some unknown reason, the cat released the mouse who is apparently smarter than a cat and did the skeddaddle. A few minutes elapsed. The cats stared under the washing machine. Then mad squeaking and some cat movement. The mouse, it turns out, was never under the washing machine but hiding behind the dog water bowl! Now the cats were properly focused and Doug thought, "hey great - now we can close the utility room door and have some kind of celebrity rodent death match, and I'll head off to work." He didn't get very far before I, apparently, raised enough of a stink about the pooooooor mouse and how horrible it was that he had to be so afraid and then eventually die.

Doug bravely entered the utility room and opened the door to the deck. Willy, being the smart cat that he is, took that opportunity to go out onto the deck because he believes he is an outdoor cat deep down somewhere. The mouse seized his big getaway opportunity and ran out the door to freedom, with a little limp.

I'm sure that the mouse has already rejoined his 52,000 brothers and sisters in my basement. But, I would rather the mouse die by trap than by cat after being fearful for its life for however long. I'm a sap like that. Plus, I killed enough mice for a lifetime when I worked in a biology lab.