I came in the door two days ago and there sat Toby in a perfect sitting position. I looked his way and said, "Hi Tobe, what's up?" Then I did a double take.
Both he and Maggie are set to go to the groomers a little later on today. Both are so hairy they look like the proverbial dust mop without the handle. So it was a bit hard to see what was hanging out of his mouth but I was pretty sure it was a tail of a......
Oh.
My.
God!
What have you got? He came over to me wagging his whole body, he was so proud of what he had found. A treasure especially for me. Or maybe he figured he slayed a dragon he certainly acted proud enough. He proceeded to drop his plunder at my feet. There lying lifeless on the floor was a limp, slightly soggy, black mouse. "EWWWW! Gross!" I started doing the 'ooh it's a mouse' dance across my kitchen floor yelling for Dwight to come see what Toby found!
Well of course he came rushing in; I mean who wouldn't at the sound of my shrieking. He looks calmly at the mouse says, "Oh good boy Toby, look what you found", as he's reaching down to pet him and actually put the poor animal at ease because with my shrieking and hopping around like a maniacal escapee from the mental ward the poor dog thought he'd done something wrong. He calmly picked it up and went to send him on the proverbial water slide to his burial in the city sewer.
He loves to show me up like that. But don't think I didn't note he used needle nose pliers and plucked him up by the tail.
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Last night as I walked into my kitchen the wall of decomp hit my nostrils right about the area between the kitchen and dining room. Seriously, it was like an invisible wall. Now all day long I had been in and out of the kitchen and I'm sure the dead mouse had been bloating all that time. But it seems to reach a critical moment before the stink seems to begin to waft off of their decaying little bodies. And where was his chosen final resting place? Underneath our refrigerator of course. When Dwight came home he had to move the heavy appliance out once again (and it hasn't even been a week since the last time) and pick up his bloated, black little carcass and give him a burial in the sewer. What the mice find fascinating about the area under the fridge as a good place to die is beyond me. Unless it's warm from the fan blowing. And each time the fan came on it blew more of that fascinating odor known on CSI as decomp out into the air. At least he wasn't lying in 'dead guy juice' or in this case 'dead mouse juice.'
The DCon, I reported recently, that we laid all around the house is disappearing at an alarming rate. In each specially chosen area where the pets can't get it we have opened pouches and poured a little out. The mice have gone after it like it was a feast and even going into the bags to fetch more. But we've had to put more out and it keeps disappearing. So, where are the dead mice going to die? We know of the fridge, obviously. But they all aren't going there to die. You know what's going to happen don't you? I'm going to start smelling rotting, decaying corpses that I can't find to dispose of and we'll have to try to cover up the odor until the bodies dry up.
One night as I went in the laundry room to check on the rate of decline of those little green morsels our mice find yummy I discovered nary a pellet, crum or SACK! Perplexed I envisioned a giant rat, not mouse, running off with the nifty packet to show his family back at the proverbial nest. "Look honey at what I found!” This was rather disconcerting. Cautiously I called my hubby who was out of town. "Um, dear, the mice are eating the pellets like it's the best food in the house."
"Good, glad to hear it. It means the little bastards will begin dying!" he says with a deep throaty, muhaha ha ha kind of laugh.
"Yes", I said timidly, "but have you ever heard of them eating the packet too?"
Again more laughter only this was more of a delighted kind of glee reserved especially for me when he knows he has the perfect opening for me to look stupid. In between tears of hilarity he manages to get out, "no, I took the packet nitwit!"
I was glad he wasn't here to see me breathe a huge sigh of relief, which I did: away from the mouth piece. I was also glad he wasn't physically here or I might have killed him. Then CNN would be reporting from my location as police and news helicopters flew overhead trying to talk the crazy woman out peacefully. My friends would be gathered at the local cafe talking about how the furry little mice finally pushed me over the edge but my poor husband was at the wrong place at the wrong time. Pity the poor SOB.
One thing's for sure...I'm not coming out peacefully. I may have to blow my house up just to get rid of those goddamn mice!
