A Wocket in my Pocket is different than a Mouse in my House.

Remember that book by Dr. Seuss - There is a Wocket in my Pocket? He always made stuff sound so cool. I dare to say he couldn’t do it with this story!

There is lots of construction going on across the street from my house. This has been going on for a bit more than year. All the mice that were in the field have scampered across the road and into my ivy and on my property. The cats have “gifted” me some of them. My neighbor’s outdoor traps have received some of them. And I have called the pest control guy to get rid of the pesky little creatures. The pest control guy has brought out the sticky traps (think glue). I have added snap traps to it. The pest control guy has brought out the bait traps - but the poison is not harmful to my cats if they do get hold of them. That is, if I don’t fire them first! The pest control guy has come out and made sure there are no holes from the outside in to where the mice can come and go.

Over the last several months, every once in awhile, I end up with mouse pee on my counter. Now, to any of you have experienced this – it is NOT pleasant. There is a distinctive odor. But it is easy to clean up. But it makes me crazy, as it usually happens at night and I have to deal with it prior to coffee.

I remember reading Runaway Ralph by Beverly Cleary. She never mentioned where the mouse went to the bathroom.

However, there is never any mouse poop. The pest control guy will tell you that it is not possible for the mouse to pee and not poop at the same time. Apparently, mice don’t know about the Kegel exercises. He also thinks it is one of my cats suddenly marking their territory.

Let’s back up and let me tell you about the cats. One is 15 and old and tired and the other one is a great hunter (unfortunately, she brings me stuff all the time). They are both females. They never have “marked” their territory. Is there a cat whisperer in the house?

The pest control guy has me believing that it is one of the cats and that there is no way possible it is a mouse. Nor, are there any mice in the house (he comes out here every few months and puts down new traps, or fills up the old ones. The last time he was here (after a distressing call from me), he spent hours here making sure there were no holes anywhere and he checked up on the bait traps, where he stated that there was no bait even touched – and if I had a mouse problem, the bait would be gone, as would the mice. He still insisted it is one of the cats.

I’ve been keeping an eye on the cats – making sure they always have plenty of food, and clean kitty litter.

Imagine my surprise on Saturday morning when I went into the bathroom where my robe is hung up on the back of the door. And when I went to put my nice snuggly comfy robe on and there was a mouse hanging out in the arm of it. Now, I am no sissy, but I screamed bloody murder, as the little guy scrambled up my arm, onto my shoulder and then launched himself over to the counter and down onto the floor, behind the basket where I keep my blow-dryer and curling iron. And also imagine my surprise that not one of my neighbors came to see what was wrong. They had to have heard me. Unfortunately, my husband was at his weekly soccer game and had taken the dogs, so I was left in the house to deal with it myself. (Damnit)

Of course, I slammed the door and shut him in there. After I calmed down a bit (and poured myself some coffee), I gathered up all the sticky traps left over from the pest control guys last visit (declaring that I didn’t have mice), and one “Mr. jaws” trap loaded with peanut butter. I slowly opened the bathroom door and he was still cowering behind the basket (I could hear him and see his tail!). I lined the sticky traps up so he HAD to cross them to get out. Mr. Jaws was waiting in case he decided to run that direction. Just as I was putting the final one down – he made a run for it – right at me again. I screamed (again like a sissy girl), slammed the bathroom door to keep him inside. Ooops. With me inside too. He tried to run past the door, he tried to jump in the bathtub, and then he went barreling past me again and ran behind the toilet. I gathered up the sticky traps (which he ran right over) and placed them and a box to set a trap. I was going to get this mouse and show it to the pest control guy if it killed me. Everything all set again. I can still hear him. At this point, I wanted to terrorize the little shit for disrupting what was going to be my perfect Saturday morning at home.

I left him in there and slammed the bathroom door. I put towels down in front of the door so that Mr. Fatty-Boombalatty couldn’t get out from under the door. And let me just tell you – this mouse was huge. He wasn’t one of those cute little things you see in pet stores. In fact, as far as I know, it coulda been a rat. And this somehow makes it worse.

After a few minutes, I heard a huge commotion. I thought Mr. Jaws had squished him. I go flying into the bathroom and somehow he had gotten up on top of the toilet tank and knocked over my orchid and disappeared again. Isn’t that cute? I was pissed.

But not as pissed as I was when I realized that I had left the door open. And now I have no clue where Mr. Fatty-Boombalatty is.

I thought perhaps he was still in there. I spied my hunter cat and threw her in the bathroom and shut the door. 10 minutes later, I had no mouse, a pissed off cat and a freaking mouse loose in the house.

I really wish I had a wocket in my pocket instead. It couldn’t be any worse.

I wonder if Mr. Pest Control Guy is in the office yet.

I almost failed to tell you – there was not one bit of pee, or poop, in any of the mouse’s hiding places in the bathroom. And I have washed my bathrobe. And I may never be the same.

Do you think if I sold my house I would have to tell them about the mouse?