A friend recently posted about problems with mice and it reminded me of our own “mousecapdes “when we lived in Minot, North Dakota.
I walked in the door one morning after the gym as Mrs. Staff Sergeant walked out. (She was 12 or 13 at the time.) “Mom, River is acting strange,” she said. “He’s just sitting in the kitchen staring.”
“Okay, I’ll check it out. Thanks.” I went into the house. River, our fluffy gray cat was indeed sitting in the kitchen staring at the cupboards. “Hey buddy, whatcha doing?” I barely got a mew out of this normally affectionate animal.
I went around the corner to start my Bible study. Suddenly, a loud crash came from the kitchen. “River, what are you doing,” I muttered, as I got up to see what happened. As I rounded the corner, he met me in the doorway, with a MOUSE in his mouth!
As I stood staring at him, River headed down the six stairs to our basement family room where Illinois Girl sat watching television. “River’s got a mouse,” I said to warn her. She looked behind her as he put it on the floor. “Oh my gosh, it’s a real one,” she said as she leapt over the back of the couch and scrambled up the stairs.
In the meantime, I grabbed the phone to call the Good Chaplain. “River’s got a mouse,” I said as soon as he picked up the phone. “Is it alive?” He was calm. “I don’t know.” And then, “yes, come home now!” as the mouse moved and River brought it back upstairs. I hung up and Illinois Girl and I bolted up the stairs to my bedroom. We slammed the door and cowered on the bed.
As we sat there waiting for the Good Chaplain to rescue us, it occurred to me that the bedroom door had a gap big enough to let the mouse in but not River if he chose to bring it to us. “We’ll get in the shower, Mom. I’m pretty sure the mouse can’t climb up tile,” Illinois Girl said.
As the Good Chaplain explained his side of the story, he walked into an empty, echoing house to see River in the living room, a paw on either side of the mouse, looking proud of himself. The mouse moved. River smacked it and that was the end of the mouse.
As Illinois Girl and I crept downstairs, the Good Chaplain wrapped the mouse in a paper towel to dispose of it. But he showed it to us first. “Awww, it’s so cute. It looks like Ralph from ‘Ralph and the Motorcycle’,” I said.
The Good Chaplain rolled his eyes. “I have to go back to work.”