He is cute, no? Sitting sweetly on his leafy perch. I envision myself feeding him bread right out of my hand, like I did the squirrels in our old park.
Now picture him IN MY HOME. And envision me with my feet up on a chair, frozen and somehow also sweaty. Cut to twenty minutes later and I am shoving suitcases into the car seats and my sons into the storage compartment of the Honda.
To go back a few steps… my home in this story is my father’s little cabin in the woods. Now my little cabin in the woods. Although the mice would probably make some noise about squatters rights and occupancy laws.
You have to understand that Damon and I spent many years in small apartments in big cities. We don’t really know how to take care of a normal house, much less a little cabin in the woods. One visit I brought a bag of bird seed, thinking we might hang a feeder. We didn’t. I left the seed. You can guess the rest. In case you can’t… field mice infestation. Field mice times a million.
On our next visit we got there late, unpacked and went to sleep. Something woke me up, some sixth sense. In a pre-dawn haze I walked out of the little bedroom just in time to see… something… zoom past my toes. And then another, across the room. And now we’re back to the part where I’m on the chair.
I’m not a screamer. I’m more of a freezer. My heart scrambled up my throat and all the little hairs stood on my arms. I didn’t want to haul everyone out of bed at 4am, and so I waited until nearly 5 (heroic patience!) before I hissed, “DamonDamonDamonDamon. We have to go Right Now! Mice! We have miiiiiiice!”
Half an hour of equal parts cringing, gasping and car packing and we were making the 5-hour drive (that we’d just completed the night before) back home.
Exterminators have visited. Damon found a kind and iron-spined local woman. I told her she could name her price, as long as she went in there and gave every dead mouse a decent burial (or whatever) somewhere far, far away. I will raid the college fund if needs be.
We’re going back for the long weekend, and this time we’re bringing cats.
jaysaint 
Posted by S. on August 29, 2011 at 5:35 pm
You did the good and moral thing when you decided to throw money at the problem. Or at least you did what I have done and would do again, without hesitation. It is good for the economy, and it is good for the soul. Surely joy and happiness will follow you for the rest of your days.
Posted by Brian Patrick Flynn on August 29, 2011 at 11:17 pm
I have many thoughts on this situation. Stylistically, I enjoyed your capitalization and occasional short sentence structure. Although I am not put off whatsoever by mice, I would probably purchase W.M.D.s if I were to witness an actual sewer-sized rat in my home. Did the aforementioned mouse make actual noises or was it just scurry-ish and nails-on-a-chalkboard-y? I ask only because I am scared to death of a particular insect which rhymes with the word coach. In fact, my best friend and I actually moved out of our first college apartment after we found live ones in the house four days in a row. Are you as horrified by the creatures whose name I shall not mention as you are by said rodents? Lastly, I am a large fan of how you closed the story with talk of cats as nature’s original, organic exterminators. BRILLZ. That is all. #blogcomment
Posted by S. on August 30, 2011 at 11:02 pm
Pssst. Jillian. Is that guy up there famous?