We’ve had a house guest for the last couple of weeks. I first became aware of him when I came downstairs in the morning and I saw Ollie and Beck posed like a couple of German shorthairs on a grouse, staring at the base of the refrigerator. It didn’t take a genius (I am of course a genius but it didn’t take one) to guess that we had a mouse. Like most problems we face we tacitly decided to ignore it and hope that it went away. Maybe we figured it was Ollie’s job to handle small rodent issues. After all he is a cat, sort of. Ollie’s concept of his job description was to stand guard and make sure he didn’t get out of the kitchen. He took up a position in the entry to the kitchen and stared at the cupboard below the sink for hours. I’m not sure he’d know what to do if the mouse ever came out.

Beck doesn’t work on Mondays, a situation that I’m wildly jealous of, but that’s another blog. So on her day off she went shopping and brought home a mouse trap. When I got home from work she excitedly called me up to the kitchen and opened the cupboard so I could see an empty mouse trap. “He’s gone!”

Apparently she’d trapped the little bastard but he’d managed to get out. “There he is!” He must have been injured and stunned because he was sitting on top of the plumbing under the sink, not making any effort to get away. I got my work gloves reached in and grabbed the little pest and took him out to the garbage can. He will either die out there, chew his way out and move back in or since they pick up today, be transported to a landfill and think he’s gone straight to heaven.

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