And today, I will tell you the story of our little mouse.
This story starts a few weeks back with a little furry friend who had decided to take up residence in our much-loved kitchen. A few of us were sharing a lazy breakfast one Saturday morning when we heard something moving in the corner.
There was a few tiny squeaks, a rustling of paper, and a tiny little scampering noise. I know it is hard to believe, but our conversation was silenced by these tiny little noises.
There was stillness. It was eerie.
We were silent, waiting in anticipation to find out where this noise was coming from.
We looked around at each other, trying to work out whether we should be scared or not. As a few more seconds rolled by without incident, we all relaxed a little. That was until one of the girls felt a warm tickling sensation scamper over her bare feet.
It a split second, there was collective high-pitched screaming that resulted in an automatic response that left us all standing on chairs and some of us even embracing the safety of standing on the kitchen table.
Honestly, I can't tell you how long we were all up there before we felt safe enough to retreat back to our usual breakfast positions. All i know is that this teeny tiny little creature had such an incredible hold over us. In that moment, I came to realise that in general, women never really learn that a mouse can't actually hurt you. I am pretty sure men learn this fairly early on, and tend to be aware of the direct correlation between the size of something and it's strength. We clearly are still trying to learn that one.
After about a week without a Stuart {Little} sighting, we thought perhaps he was just on holidays with us. In the meantime, we had some friends over for dinner and when they heard of our little mouse, the boys of the group smiled and gently told us that one mouse is never just one mouse... it is always a nest. Oh dear!
And later that week, we did find out that this was in fact the case. As it turns out, our very own Stuart, had gone off to invite Mrs Little and the whole Little family to reside here with us.
These desperate times did indeed call for some desperate measures. I mean if one little solo mouse had the ability to get 6 girls standing on top of the kitchen table, what would a whole family of mice do to us?
So a house meeting was scheduled.
TOPIC: Stuart's Eviction.
These were some of the notes taken:
1. We must not under any circumstance continue to call him Stuart. He must be 'Mouse intruder #1'. Some of the girls thought that if we personalise him too much, the trauma of his departure/death may be too much.
2. Organic mousetraps versus the good old fashioned metal-springed torture traps. We were torn. Mainly because we did not like the consequence of any of the above traps. One way, you find a dead, squished, bulging eyed mouse, flattened between a piece of wood and a metal death bar; or conversely, you find a mouse, unharmed and alive, frantically crawling in a little box in your kitchen. Either way you still have to dispose of the mouse - and none of us are believed to have the emotional constitution to be able to deal with either of these situations.
3. We could pray that the Little Family find another place of residence. I know it sounds crazy, and I must admit some of the housemates had an eye-roll kind of reaction. But hey, it's worth a go. We have been given a week to pray the mice away. If after that week, we still have the Little Family with us, I'm afraid it's onto other less humane forms of death, entrapment and eviction for poor little Stuart.
So i guess this is a battle that only time will tell.
In the mean time, if you see a knight in mouse-hunting armour, then please send him our way x
