Posted this to FB a few minutes ago. I’m going to take a nap. Pray it doesn’t eat me.


So, yesterday, I was waiting on my dinner–in the living room. I was just kind of meditating on my ottoman. The cats were asleep–except Rilly–who kept pacing by the entryway to our apt. I heard the sound of claws on linoleum or on the wall. At first, I thought it was Rilly (he’s a fan of clawing walls), but then i noticed he was quietly sitting on something else–a little bit away from where the noise was coming from (the pantry). I also noticed he heard it, too, and was looking where i was looking. I immediately thought MOUSE and freaked out. I sat there a few more minutes and heard it again. eventually, I ruled out a mouse because our neighbor dropped something in her pantry and did something that sounded similar. Relieved, I ate my dinner and continued on my way.

Today, I’m waiting on another delivery. I’m sitting in the living room, meditating. All three cats are asleep and far away from the pantry. I hear the exact same scratching noise–coinciding with incessant barking from our neighbor’s dog. I hear it at least three more times. and Fogg goes running straight for the pantry. This time, I’m convinced it’s a mouse because neighbor is not in her pantry. It vaguely sounds like something trying to climb up a wall. I’m not as terrified as the bathroom incident, but I am now without a cup to trap anything with. So I go eat my lunch. I come back–hear it again–and decide to get close to the pantry door to see if i can pinpoint a general location. Nothing. I put on shoes. Grab my dust mop. Pray. Cringe. Cry. Get a can of spray air. Tell the kitties to help Mama if we have a runner. I open the door about two inches (it’s an accordion style door)–freak out–scream–and close it quickly. Just because. I hear no scampering. No clawing. Saw no poops. Huh. So, I then spray air into the pantry–hoping to scare the bejeebus out of little mouse friend–and hear nothing. Huh. I then sit on the floor, ear to the door, trying to hear–and nothing.

So today’s mouse adventures are done for now. The three kitties are circling the living room. I have animal control, building management, and the Pope on speed dial in case one comes out of the wall and lunges at me in my sleep. I’ve googled humane ways to kill rodents–and won’t be doing any of them–because JEEBUS. Instead I’m armed with my spray air and lip balm and a candle lighter. But honestly, we all know I’ll just run–screaming–somewhere. (I might make a slingshot later). At this point, I think I either have mouse PTSD or they are tormenting me on purpose or it’s the ghost of some ancient mouse king–trying to thank me for saving his friend. All I can say is–man, I’m glad I’m moving soon.

Related: now taking applications for boyfriends. Must be fearless when encountering jumping animals. Must be dedicated to non-violence. Cannot be swayed by sad, beady eyes, and must not bring them anywhere near me. In exchange, I will let you play with my cats.


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