Dealing with an Unwanted Houseguest

If only it were this charming in real life.

If only it were this charming in real life.

I recently had a houseguest who came uninvited and just would not leave! He was a mouse, though, who I first saw as little flashes in the corner of my eye. Nah, I said, it must be my imagination. Then I finally saw him with his beady little eyes and twitchy little nose. I broke the news to my roommate gently, “I don’t want to alarm you but I have seen a mouse…”

As compassionate (and squeamish) people, we decided to go with discouragement first, rush ordering some Mouse Away spray from Amazon Prime. As I was spritzing the perimeter of our living room, I discovered Sir Mousey’s treasure trove of snacks- a forgotten roll of rice cakes left in my roommate’s storage bin. Since she was asleep when I made my discovery and we wouldn’t see each other for at least 48 hours I felt I had no choice but to send her an email so she could deal with the situation post haste. Often the realm of passive aggression, the roommate email is sometimes the best way of sharing bad news- “Hey, so sorry, wouldn’t normally write this in an email but I won’t be home tonight and the mouse has pooped all over your stuff and you’re probably going to want to deal with that sooner rather than later.”

The news got worse. After a weekend mostly out of the apartment, I returned to find that she had done a massive clean of her room and discovered that the mouse had made a nest out of the hay she keeps for her bunnies- in her LLBean Boot. A couple of days later and we have finally purchased lethal traps and hope to have the matter resolved shortly.

In the meantime, I have written a poem in honor of our bewhiskered friend and offer my apologies to Robert Burns for the blatant ripoff:

To A Mouse

Small, crafty, cowering, timorous little beastie,
Oh, what a panic is in your breastie!
Please run away so hasty
With your hurrying scamper
From behind that laundry hamper
Where I see you hiding basely.

I’m truly sorry man’s dominion
Has broken Nature’s social union,
And justifies your ill opinion
Which makes you think
That you belong indoors
And makes me you abhor.

I have found the evidence that you steal;
Making rice cakes your poor meal!
Hay meant for bunny’s bed
Makes the thoughts stir in your head.
But when you use it to make your house,
Then we are sorry, Mr. Mouse.

Your small house, too, in ruin!
Its feeble walls an LLBean Boot!
And nothing now, to build a new one,
You may think me quite a brute
To have cleaned it out
But you must leave, and there’s no doubt.

You saw the streets laid bare and wasted,
And weary winter coming fast,
And cozy here, inside a closet,
You thought to dwell,
Till crash! We couldn’t pause it.
You, we had to expel.

That small bit heap of straw and hay,
Probably took you many a day!
Now you are turned out, for all your trouble,
We have bought a mouse trap, on the double.
To finally put an end
For our peace of mind, we must defend.

But little Mouse, you are not alone,
In proving foresight may be vain:
The best laid schemes of mice and men
Go often awry,
And leave us nothing but grief and pain,
For promised joy!

You had thought you had found a welcome home!
To find you will enter your catacomb.
But oh! I backward cast my eye,
And wish I had never lost my cat.
Who would have prevented me from having to spy,
A mouse upon my mat.

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