this is WAR, peacock.

October 18, 2010

One night a few weeks ago Jon and I were sitting on the couch well after the Jude's bedtime watching tv. Since I fall asleep at a ridiculously grandmotherly hour almost immediately after eating I was curled up in the corner of the couch pretending to look perky. Suddenly, Jon popped halfway up out of his seat.

"I saw something. Over there, by the tv."

"Like... what? A ghost? A train? Gymboree?"

Oh, it was something all right.

Fueled by adrenaline I pulled myself out of my half-tv half-after-dinner coma and we set to work. I grabbed a few tupperware bowls and Jon grabbed the flashlight.
The hunt for Red October was on.

Since we had seen him behind the tv we started there, carefully pulling things away from the wall and using books to block off escape routes. We checked the baby toys, the shelf, the junk bins, behind the speakers... nothing.

We sat back on our heels for a minute. "Maybe I just imagined it," he mused.

"Maaaaybe it was a shadow," I replied.

And then... ZIP. A tiny fluffer skeetched around the corner and under the closet door, fast like lightening.

May I repeat,

So we moved on to stage two, trapping him inside the closet. Jon went inside while I blocked his escape route with wooden toddler puzzles and screetched, "Eeeeeee!! EEEEEEEEE!"

After we had attempted to secure the area Jon carefully lifted up item by item in the closet to pinpoint which corner Red October was hiding in. Beneath the last possible thing, an old bag of spare keys, there he was, the tiniest cutest damn mouse I've ever seen.


Down went the tupperware.H e was captured. HUZZAH! SUCCESS!
And there was much high-five-ing and rejoicing across the land. And across the twitter.

Jon scooped him up and we admired his tiny cuteness.

"Oh, but he's so small!"

"And jumpy!"

"And cute!"

"I'll take him a few blocks away and release him," said Jon, for we are kind hearted folk.

Red October got a second chance, a few blocks away across from the pub in a field. Go little dude, go!

I had hoped that would be the end of that story, you know? Nothing to be upset about just one little mouse. So cute! They're building a new grade school in the empty field behind our neighbor's house and he probably came from there. Destruction of their natural habitat, blah blah. We've got our own secret of nimh story going on over here. That was probably Mrs Brisbee's second cousin twice removed. All he needed was a jaunty cap, a half-cape and a rapier.

Not an hour later after I had returned to my spot of sleepiness on the couch just happened to see a little brown fluffer zip down the stairs and back into the kitchen.

One mouse I can handle. More than one mouse? Commence the freakout. A MOUSE, A MOUSEA MOUSE! A MOUUUUUUUUSE in my HOUUUUUSE. Zip blarf vom hork.

Dear mouse #2,
I met your tiny adorable friend. He got to go live outside because, you know, we're cool like that and if I had a spare moosely cage I would have kept him and petted his little face. I would have sewn him a tiny white polo shirt. However you are not mouse #1. You are mouse #2. Two is too many moose for my hoose. Warning shots have been fired. Beware the red dawn, the blood moon at midnight.
Omelette, eggs, broken. You pickin up what I'm puttin down?
I'm warning you, time for you to get the fuck out while you still can.

to be continued...
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