9/19/09
While I was helping a student with a paper, I saw a mouse run along the back wall of my living room. We couldn’t kill it; it squeezed under the door and ran into the dorm hallway.
It makes me feel sick to think there might be mice in here. Ever since the school told me I might be able to move to Peter Hall, I’ve questioned whether or not I ought to. There are other teachers in Building Two who have rooms much worse than mine – mold problems, leaks, lack of hot water, and damaged walls and ceilings. Perhaps the mouse was a sign that I do have a reason to move…
9/30/09
I saw a mouse again. I was watching a movie on the laptop and caught a glimpse of it breezing across the bathroom tiles. Lord, please help my sleep tonight. Please let me move soon. And please, if I don’t move tomorrow, help me to find mousetraps.
10/6/09
Just saw my little furry friend again. I saw the familiar brown flash – I saw it by the trash can and the empty iron package I’d left sitting on the floor. I knew he was under the fridge, so I texted Josh, another teacher, and Josh promptly came with a hiking boot. We prepared little – just remoed the Tide detergent bag from the top of the fridge before we pushed the fridge away from the wall, I with a broom and Josh with his boot. Our enemy made an easy escape – he scampered along the walls, disappeared one instant, then re-appeared by the heating vent in the corner. I knew by then that we would lose him, because he was close to the bathroom door and his usual hiding place underneath the shower floor.
15 minutes later…
The mouse is dead, praise the lord. After Josh left, I continued to sit on my couch and work on a lesson plan, and soon I saw a tiny head poke out from under the shower. I could see him perfectly from my spot on the couch, but at first he didn’t notice me. He emerged completely, and when I made a slight movement he looked straight at me. I froze and he froze, and we stared at each other. I moved again, and back under the shower he went. Over the next five minutes, we performed hide-and-seek routine at least six times, he crawling out from the shower or appearing all of a sudden out of the corner of the opened bathroom door.
I called Josh back. He came with some books and a bag of candy and sat in a chair just beside me to wait. He told me to block the doorways, so I stuffed mats under the bedroom and front doors. We waited. Soon the enemy reappeared. We went through the same routine once – he saw me and ran back. But the second time, Josh and I didn’t move. Josh didn’t even turn his head to look. The mouse came all the way out into the living room and ran for the door. He paced and scratched and stood on his hind legs when he found he couldn’t squeeze out under it, and while he scrambled to escape, Josh made his move. He ran to the bathroom door and stuffed a towel under it while the mouse took cover under the fridge again. We gathered our weapons; I had a hiking boot this time. When the mouse broke from his last shelter, he missed the slap of Josh’s boot by just a hair, and when he ran for his old place under the shower, he scrambled all over the wadded-up towel before he finallhy met his end on a final, hopeless run for the front door. Josh struck his target right beside the pair of shoes I had left on the floor. Hallelujah! Thank you for victory! Please, may this mouse have been an orphan.
15 minutes later…
I did think that mouse was a darker color than one I’d seen before.
I sat back on the couch after Josh left, light and happy. I was thinking and smiling that two weeks’ worth of mouse sightings were over, until I heard a scratching sound and looked up to see a light gray mouse standing on its hind legs and scrambling to get out of the door that was still blocked by the mat.
