Monday, November 4, 2013

Open Letter to Our Teeny Houseguest

Dear Mister Mouse,

I would like to apologize about how our first meeting wrapped up.  It was not at all how I intended for it to end.  But then again, it was not on my agenda to meet in the first place, so I was really kind of winging it.  You should've had your people call my people to schedule a visit.

Let me applaud you on your elusive methods of getting our attention.   We were thisclose to thinking we were losing our minds.  Every time we heard the strange commotion, we would shut off the television and sit quietly to try to locate where the noise was coming from.  But you were far more experienced at this game than we were and you would clam up the minute we got quiet.  We spent a good portion of the evening playing "freeze and look suspicious" in order to narrow down your location.  I believe I could hear my heartbeat at one point.  And my need to breathe really pissed me off because I was sure that it was inhibiting my ability to hear clearly.

I have no idea when the cat got involved.  To be honest, she's really a chunky, furry, lazy-ass, so I'm surprised she chose to poke her nose in your business at all.   The first question I asked my husband when I forced him to look in that laundry room while I huddled in a ball on the couch was, "Is that cat in there?!" You can't imagine my surprise when I discovered she was with you.  "Yup.  She's here."  She may have intervened, but she kept the action to a minimum, didn't she?  I didn't hear any feline sounds coming from that room.  You could've kicked her ass with no problem.

Even thought I was completely freaked out about you running around our condo, I'm not heartless.  I really just wanted you to vacate the premises.  There's oodles of forrest land around this complex.  You looked like an industrious fella so I bet you would conquer the mouse territories with no problem.  Surely you would have been more comfortable in the wild than in our house.  We're on a diet.  There's slim pickins here.  No good eats.

I am as shocked as you probably were when Justin tried to trap you with that jumbo cat feeder (now you know why she's fat.... key word is "JUMBO")  When I heard the "uh-oh", my fear of a rodent encounter was instantly replaced with a fear for your life.  We don't have much mouse trapping experience so "we" reached for the first thing we could find.  How did we know that you would try to flee as the hollow bottomed feeder came slamming down?

I can best explain my thoughts and feelings by sharing a text conversation I had with my mother during the last moments of your life:

ME: There is something in our laundry room !!! A bat or mouse or something!!!
MOM: OH NO
(pause)
ME: It's a mouse.
ME: We have it cornered.  The cat alerted us but didn't do her job.  Of course.
MOM: I think we have a trap of you need one.
ME: Kill trap??
MOM: I think so.  ____ gave it to us.  You definitely want to get it out of your house before it gets into your kitchen and leaves little droppings.
(pause)
(this is the sad part)
ME: He is no longer with us.
ME: Accidentally murdered.
ME: Deceased
ME: Moment of silence please
ME: No poopers will be left behind now.  The poop maker is gone.
MOM: NOW.....just how did this happen????
ME: Yes, now
ME: Justin killed him by accident trying to trap him under something
(pause)
ME: I think I'm mourning  a little bit
ME: Oh jeez.  Justin just flung him toward ______'s place.  Not even a respectable burial!
(where were the condolences?)
ME: Hello?
MOM:  Oh no.....my poor granddaughter!
ME: Why???
MOM: No reason....just a crazy mother, that's all.
ME: Gee thanks. I can't imagine where I get it from
MOM: Your father, of course!

In conclusion, I'm sorry that you're dead.  I suppose it was better that you were accidentally killed by the cat feeder.  Considering the speed at which Lucky does things, it would have been a slow, torturous death if left up to the cat.  If anyone comes looking for you, I'll let them know that it was quick and painless.  I hope you're in the Great Cheese Factory in the sky, chomping away on a big fat piece of gouda or pecorino romano......or perhaps Brie if you were a fancy mouse.

Fondly,
Vicki

p.s. I'd really appreciate it if we kept it to ourselves that I was hiding behind my three year old during this experience.  She's a brave little soul, isn't she?  Totally badass.


Dear Cat,

Sorry for the slanderous statements.  There was some truth to your inactivity and lack of hunting skills.   And keep in mind that you only started liking me during the past year.  I'm really not obligated to say super nice things about you.   I'm still a little suspicious of your motives, but you're cute so I'm willing to work it out.  Next time maybe you could take care of business though?

Love (With Caution),
The female human


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