Friday, July 31, 2009

The Game of Bed Mice

My husband started playing "bed mice" with Elli when she was just little. You know, move a hand or a foot under the blankets and get her to chase the "mouse"? She will run when she hears him open the bedroom door and wait to be picked up onto the bed so they can play. She absolutely loves that game.

Last night, however, I discovered a new, unwelcome variation.

At around 3:30 a.m., I was sleeping on my side and dreaming, when I felt like fingers were tapping on my hip. I woke up and didn't feel it, so figured I must have been dreaming. I turned onto my back and thought, "that was weird". A couple of minutes went by, me still awake, and then I felt something SCURRY ACROSS MY HAND!!!!

Now, we have had a mouse in the house recently; we seem to draw one or two brave little explorers every few months or so, probably due in large part to the gap under the in-need-of-replacement garage door. We've been pretty successful rounding them up: me with a catch-and-release program that involves a lot of "EW!"ing and twitching and running for the woodline at just under the speed of light; Nathan with the more pragmatic burial-at-sea (read: toilet) approach. The most recent of interlopers has proven more wily than his predecessors, though, managing to elude, for the better part of a week now, two housecats, two corgis, and a number of D-Con traps laid in strategic locations around the house.

So knowing this, I flung my hand out, jumped up to turn the light on, jammed my emergency glasses on my face, and started frantically searching the bed, the floor beside the bed, down behind the bed, under the bed, etc., but couldn't find anything. Ian, the Head Verminator of the Household, just lay on his bed, giving me a quizzical look, while Elli peered hopefully out of her crate, no doubt waiting for me to free her so she could jump around like a lunatic too; I'm sure it looked like great fun to HER, Mighty Huntress of Bed Mice.

My search never did turn up anything. Ian never bothered to get up and look, and Elli remained in her crate, casting rebukeful glances my way as I turned out the light and wrapped myself mummy-like in the sheets, heat and humidity be damned. Mickey still remains at large, no doubt planning his next daring adventure and growing more brazen by the minute.

I'm considering letting Elli start sleeping on the bed.


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