Ok if anyone had ever told me I'd get my ass kicked and handed to me by a little mouse I would have told them to shut up. How could I ever admit that I got my ass handed to me by a little bitty mouse.
I mean seriously, how ever would I face my fans again? How embarassing.
Ok I cannot tell a lie and well if I don't tell you the cats will for sure because they think it's funny. But yes, I got my ass handed to me by---a mouse. A little friggin mouse. You can have your laugh now but trust me someday---this could be you!
Yesterday I thought it was the end of it but nooo...the little bastard came back for more, unless this is like the brother or sister mouse or maybe the cousin visiting from the city? Perhaps this mouse is the mischievous ADHD "Dennis the Menace" mouse from across the street. This morning for shits and giggles I decided to peek in my nightstand drawer, no mouse. I breathed a sigh of relief just before I noticed a mouse dropping. "Hmm" I thought "I know I cleaned this out last night." But I dismissed it thinking I'd missed something. So I cleaned it up again. Then I opened the other nightstand drawer and that little BASTARD had found something to shred and was in THAT drawer. Once again, we dragged THAT nightstand out into the kitchen and on our way out the back door when the little bastard jumped out from the back and went under the fridge.
By this time I was cursing everybody. I was shouting things that would make sailors blush. Having actually been a sailor, I can tell you that the language you learn in the military is sort of a gift that keeps on giving if you know what I mean.
Oh wait before I continue, let me back up a moment and interject with a "yes, we have cats". In fact we have two that are ours--Peepers and Pebbles and one that we're fostering because our asshole next door neighbor let the cat roam free and refused to take care of her. Her name is Baby Kitty. Where were they? Glad you asked. One was sleeping, the other was relaxing (you know tough night roaming the house and all) and the other one was meowing for absolutely no reason as she usually does morning, noon and night. The latter would be Baby Kitty aka "The Attention Whore".
So there we are, having to get ready for work and a mouse under the fridge. At this point I was like "I don't give a damn" because we needed to leave for work by 6:15 and I still hadn't cooked breakfast yet. Luckily it wasn't more than a few minutes when Pebbles the Trusty Maine Coon got wind of the mouse under the fridge and proceeded to take up residency in front of the appliance ready to pounce if necessary. We left for work hoping that when we got home we would something that once resembled a mouse on the floor somewhere.
I arrived home first and proceeded to checked every room, every corner with a flashlight. I found no bodies or remnants of battle. Frustrated, I turned to the kitties and asked them what in hell they did all day long and they just looked at me with that "hurt" expression as if I didn't understand what a tough job it was being a cat home alone in the air conditioning all day long.
Figuring they were of no use at that moment in time, I got busy cleaning the house (it's usually clean but needed some routine tidying) and did lots of vacuuming, and organized, put all food away and cleaned off my counters. It was about 7 pm when I decided it might be a good idea to check the dresser drawers again. And what in hell did I find? The mouse got into one of the drawers and had shredded two pairs of underwear. So then I had to clean out all the drawers, put the clean clothes in sealed bins and stacked them, tossed the shredded stuff, cleaned out the drawers and now they are all empty. I went into the closet and put all the shoes we don't wear into sealed bins.
It wasn't until about an hour ago I realized that I was being held hostage by something that weighs less than a sheet of notebook paper and is no bigger then a bottle of ibuprofen. Seriously. What would my caveman ancestors think? I'm already battle weary. The mouse has suckered me three times. This is getting old. Next thing you know the damn thing will be tweeting victory and have its own damn facebook account.
I may be war weary but it isn't over yet. No way.