The following is an entry I made on a different blog back in January. I haven't forgotten the experience nor do I expect I ever will. I think it is worthy of repeating:
Sunday, January 18, 2009
The Battle of the Mice. . .
Thoreau has nothing on me. . .He had ants -- I have mice.Someday I should write a book about my adventures with mice! I didn't think the experience of being startled awake by feeling one running around on me with my cat, Clementi, in hot pursuit could be topped. Runner up is the small corpse under the Christmas tree which I mistakenly took for a fallen ornament. Then there's the piece of wicker I picked up off the floor. When it didn't feel quite right, I remembered the tailless mouse I had tossed into the woods the previous day. Well, this morning's harrowing experience is definitely the "topper."First of all, let me say how much I look forward to what I call my "meditation baths." (You know where this is going, don't you?) I fill the room with fragrance, the tub with bath beads, bubbles, soothing vaporizer and very hot water. Then I settle in for a time of meditation and, most importantly: spiritual listening. Who says God doesn't have a sense of humor!? Why else would a mouse drop out of nowhere right into my bath water, swim circles around me in its attempt to scramble on top of me? Preferring not to become the rodent's island of safety, I yelled, I screamed, I hollared while trying desperately to get to my feet. I slipped and slid in all directions. Soap, books, tub toys and washcloths flew everywhere; my Daily Bread devotional right into the water.When I finally landed on the floor, slammed the shower door closed and regained my composure (as much as could be expected), I wrapped a towel around my soapy body, stood on the toilet and ever so cautiously peeked over the tub door. There was "Pepino" drifting contentedly, smack-dab in the center of my mesh bath scrungie. It occurred to me how mouse and make-shift raft resembled a lavendar sunflower, if there were such a thing. "I'll fix you," I said aloud, as I gingerly poked my arm in to pull the plug.When the water had drained out, I lifted Clementi so he could take a look. At first Clementi didn't see the mouse because it was well camoflauged as it nestled in the suds of the scrungie. The mouse held very still -- as though its life depended on it. I grew impatient waiting for it to move and catch the cat's attention so I began throwing things at it. First the yellow duck, then the blue fish. It moved . . . Clementi came to attention . . . I threw the cat into the tub and closed the glass door. The chase was on. But it didn't end there. Mouse escaped with cat close behind. I lost track and have no idea what the outcome was. Whether the mouse is still hiding somewhere or if it has become a prize trophy for me to find sooner or later. Preferably sooner. I would much rather find these things with my sense of sight rather than sense of smell.There must be a country-western song somewhere in this. You know, as in "The Squirrel Went Berzerk in the First Baptist Church." Maybe ... "Ever Since my Cow Died, It's Been Raining Mice Instead of Cats and Dogs."
Posted by Dorothy at 9:52 AM
The Battle of the Mice. . .
Thoreau has nothing on me. . .He had ants -- I have mice.Someday I should write a book about my adventures with mice! I didn't think the experience of being startled awake by feeling one running around on me with my cat, Clementi, in hot pursuit could be topped. Runner up is the small corpse under the Christmas tree which I mistakenly took for a fallen ornament. Then there's the piece of wicker I picked up off the floor. When it didn't feel quite right, I remembered the tailless mouse I had tossed into the woods the previous day. Well, this morning's harrowing experience is definitely the "topper."First of all, let me say how much I look forward to what I call my "meditation baths." (You know where this is going, don't you?) I fill the room with fragrance, the tub with bath beads, bubbles, soothing vaporizer and very hot water. Then I settle in for a time of meditation and, most importantly: spiritual listening. Who says God doesn't have a sense of humor!? Why else would a mouse drop out of nowhere right into my bath water, swim circles around me in its attempt to scramble on top of me? Preferring not to become the rodent's island of safety, I yelled, I screamed, I hollared while trying desperately to get to my feet. I slipped and slid in all directions. Soap, books, tub toys and washcloths flew everywhere; my Daily Bread devotional right into the water.When I finally landed on the floor, slammed the shower door closed and regained my composure (as much as could be expected), I wrapped a towel around my soapy body, stood on the toilet and ever so cautiously peeked over the tub door. There was "Pepino" drifting contentedly, smack-dab in the center of my mesh bath scrungie. It occurred to me how mouse and make-shift raft resembled a lavendar sunflower, if there were such a thing. "I'll fix you," I said aloud, as I gingerly poked my arm in to pull the plug.When the water had drained out, I lifted Clementi so he could take a look. At first Clementi didn't see the mouse because it was well camoflauged as it nestled in the suds of the scrungie. The mouse held very still -- as though its life depended on it. I grew impatient waiting for it to move and catch the cat's attention so I began throwing things at it. First the yellow duck, then the blue fish. It moved . . . Clementi came to attention . . . I threw the cat into the tub and closed the glass door. The chase was on. But it didn't end there. Mouse escaped with cat close behind. I lost track and have no idea what the outcome was. Whether the mouse is still hiding somewhere or if it has become a prize trophy for me to find sooner or later. Preferably sooner. I would much rather find these things with my sense of sight rather than sense of smell.There must be a country-western song somewhere in this. You know, as in "The Squirrel Went Berzerk in the First Baptist Church." Maybe ... "Ever Since my Cow Died, It's Been Raining Mice Instead of Cats and Dogs."
Posted by Dorothy at 9:52 AM
