We have a mouse in the house. I don’t like it. I don’t even like the thought of it. I was preparing dinner the other night and expecting Gene to be home at any moment when I noticed Dolly staring into the bathroom. I thought that was unusual since she has never shown any interest in the bathroom in the past. As I drew closer, I hear a faint sound. Dolly tilted her head and leaned closer. I leaned closer. We are both now looking behind the toilet, when I see a little paw stick it’s arm out between the waterline that feeds the toilet and the little chrome ring that covers the hole. “Eeeek!!”

My guard dog is hot on my heels as I head for the opposite end of the house. Some protection she is! As I stand in my bedroom debating my options, I give her the evil eye. Her tail wags. I tiptoe back to the bathroom, Dolly on my heels, and sure enough, scratch, scratch, scratch. I can hear it. Oh man. I really don’t want to have to deal with this. Maybe it can wait until Gene gets home. I close the door. (I know . . . but I had to do something!)

I just can’t get that scratching sound and the vision of that little paw out of my head. Something must be done. So I bang on the water pipe, go get the bag of mouse poison and stuff it in the hole. Then I stick a toothpick in tight to keep the mouse from pushing the chrome ring off. Now I hear Gene driving in. Sure.
The Mouse in the House (heavily plagiarized from Dr. Seuss)!

The sun did not shine. It was too dark to play. So we sat in the house all that long, long, Tuesday.

I sat there with Dolly, we sat there we two. And I said, “How I wish we had something to do!”

And then something went BUMP! How that bump made us jump! We looked! And we saw him! The mouse in the house!

Gene was out of the house for the day. But I said, “No! No! Make that mouse go away! Tell that mouse in the house we do NOT want to play. He should not be here. He should not be about. He should not be here when Gene is out!”

“Now! Now! Have no fear. Have no fear!” said the mouse. “My tricks are not bad,” Said the mouse in the house.

Die mouse, die. (I like my ending better than Seuss’)

*This post was written a while ago but not published.  It is part of a series of posts dedicated to my friend Charlotta who is battling cancer for a second time and needs some laughs.