I am Meg Moseley. Meg, a writer. Seeking the real God in the real world.

Friday, August 19, 2005

Poor beastie

As Robert Burns said in 1785, the best laid schemes o’ mice an’ men gang aft agley. I had planned to post something here Monday through Friday, every week. But there I was, three days into blogging, and my ISP went down. So much for good intentions. Anyway, I’m back.

Speaking of mice, let’s consider the housekeeping habits of bookish people. Trust me, there’s a connection. In my world, the call of a good book trumps the call of a vacuum cleaner any day. I don’t intend to spend my days playing maid when there are so many good books I haven’t read. Or written. This means my house isn’t spotless, and animals sometimes invade it. Dust bunnies, for instance, and this week, a mouse. Not the computer kind. The furry kind that sounds like a squeaky-toy when the cat gets it.

I hope our little visitor was a solitary wayfarer who slipped in when the garage door was left open. When I spotted him, he was already in the jaws of the cat, who continued growling at me as I picked him up and deposited him and his mouthful of mouse in the sun porch because I didn’t want blood and guts on the carpet. Now I’m not sure if the mouse is dead or alive. I haven’t found a corpse.

Please forgive me if I seem less than tender-hearted toward rodents. Blame it on my having been a 4-H mom, an experience that purged me of sentimentality toward animals. But tell me, am I the only one here who’ll admit to having the occasional unwanted house guest on four legs?


At August 19, 2005 3:12 PM, Anonymous Michelle Truax said...

Meg wrote: "But tell me, am I the only one here who’ll admit to having the occasional unwanted house guest on four legs?"

I write: "Yes Ma'am. You are!".

Thanks for being so transparent about your Tom and Jerry issue as I will now re-think my normal action of kissing that feline on the lips when I visit!

At August 19, 2005 8:36 PM, Blogger Valerie Comer said...

Unfortunately, I understand the rodent problem all too well, living on a farm as I do. This is about the worst mouse year we've had in living memory, and what does the next door farmer do? Runs over THREE of our farm cats with his haying equipment. Toast. Shudder. The inside cat does keep most of the most adventurous mousies at bay, but I think I need more farm cats...

At August 20, 2005 7:36 AM, Blogger Meg said...

C'mon, Michelle, the cat will miss those smackeroos. Won't he???

Hey, Valerie! I know you from Faith*in*Fiction, don't I? Welcome.

Sorry about your farm cats. We used to live in the country, but the city cats we'd brought with us didn't understand the duties of barn cats. They'd stand there and stare at the mousies. Didn't know what to do with them. Pathetic.

At August 20, 2005 4:55 PM, Blogger TS said...

I understand your issue with books. My Dad wonders how I can possibly allow the grass to get so long while I am just downstairs writing on my novel, or my poetry, or reading. He just does not get it.

At August 22, 2005 2:49 PM, Blogger lindaruth said...

I do most of my writing on weekends, thus there is a whole list of chores I'm not doing while I'm writing. But the washer and dryer can run while I'm upstairs on the computer. :)

We used to live across the street from a grain elevator and field -- every winter the mice would move into the Gilmore Hotel. A-a-a-h! I remember one day seeing my small son standing in the doorway to the living room talking about a little "doggy" -- a mouse! It was an endless battle.

At August 25, 2005 10:36 AM, Blogger Carol Jackson said...

We had a mouse in our house for about 3 months last year. Uugh, I just could not believe how smart the darn thing was at escaping our traps. We even had him trapped (or so we thought)in the sofa downstairs with our cat Jack waiting to pounce when the little critter ran out of the cushion. But we did not realize the lightness of the cardboard that we put in the doorway, and out he went down the hall, up the cabinet and into the celing tile. AMAZING varmant. Jack even missed his flight as he was fixated still on the cushion where he last had seen movement. I can't remember how we finally got him, but one day there were just no more droppings....anywhere!


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