Mouse In A Can
On 2/11, I convinced my daughter to come with us, and pick up soda cans, out on Hwy 12 by Bursum Road. She filled her sack with cans, then we took a break while she lined them up on the edge of the road for Cynthia to flatten with her new hiking boots. We noticed that some of the cans had grass and twigs sticking out of them. Then my daughter noticed there was a mouse in the bottom of her sack. This mouse was dumped out by the roadside, and we continued walking, still picking up cans, but more carefully (we thought.)
When we got home, the kids finished crunching the cans, and stored them in the laundry room. Sometime after midnight, I heard shrieking. A mouse had somehow survived the can crunching, sobered up or come to his senses, and was trying to find his way out of the house. He was running around the kids' room, hence the cries of "There it is! There it is!" Everybody got up, but we couldn't find the mouse, so we all went back to bed.
A half hour later - "There it is! There it is!" and lots of banging and thumping as furniture was moved and objects were thrown. We got up again. Their dad wasn't having such a good time. "Get that worthless cat in here!" But the cat had no suggestions. It was decided to bring in the dogs. At this point they were sure the mouse was under the couch, so daughter#1 moved the couch while daughter#2 urged her pup forward. There it was! But there was also an old dog biscuit under there, and Callie must have decided that the biscuit was a surer thing, and less likely to fight back, 'cause she snagged it and made off with it.
We decided at that point to let all the dogs pile up on the kids' beds and worry about the mouse in the morning, but the mouse made a third appearance, and the BB gun came out, and that was that. But we learned something that we didn't know before. It seems that one man's trash is another's mansion - little mice crawl into the cans, drink the sugary pop left in the bottom, or the beer, and sometimes set up housekeeping and try to raise their little mousie families. It seems like there should be some sort of important message there, somewhere, but I can't think of it right now.
When we got home, the kids finished crunching the cans, and stored them in the laundry room. Sometime after midnight, I heard shrieking. A mouse had somehow survived the can crunching, sobered up or come to his senses, and was trying to find his way out of the house. He was running around the kids' room, hence the cries of "There it is! There it is!" Everybody got up, but we couldn't find the mouse, so we all went back to bed.
A half hour later - "There it is! There it is!" and lots of banging and thumping as furniture was moved and objects were thrown. We got up again. Their dad wasn't having such a good time. "Get that worthless cat in here!" But the cat had no suggestions. It was decided to bring in the dogs. At this point they were sure the mouse was under the couch, so daughter#1 moved the couch while daughter#2 urged her pup forward. There it was! But there was also an old dog biscuit under there, and Callie must have decided that the biscuit was a surer thing, and less likely to fight back, 'cause she snagged it and made off with it.
We decided at that point to let all the dogs pile up on the kids' beds and worry about the mouse in the morning, but the mouse made a third appearance, and the BB gun came out, and that was that. But we learned something that we didn't know before. It seems that one man's trash is another's mansion - little mice crawl into the cans, drink the sugary pop left in the bottom, or the beer, and sometimes set up housekeeping and try to raise their little mousie families. It seems like there should be some sort of important message there, somewhere, but I can't think of it right now.
posted by Suzanne44 @ 11:00 PM
1 Comments:
At 7:39 AM,
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