It all started when we were just about ready to shut off the TV and turn in for the night. Thor suddenly became extremely excited and began to frantically pace up and down the couch. He then started to paw at the couch and sniff at it obsessively. Our other dog, Oakley, seemed a little confused over the matter, but he took Thor’s lead as Thor went at the couch with utter conviction.
I immediately dismissed the situation by thinking it was just another lizard, and headed for the bathroom to brush my teeth. As a side, I think it’s important to take note of the fact that I was unphased by the assumed lizard inside our house. What has become of me?! However, since Thor’s extreme reaction didn’t seem to match the typical lizard response, my boyfriend decided he should take a closer look. He grabbed a flashlight, kneeled down on the floor and looked under the couch. After a few minutes of searching for what seemed like nothing, he came over to report the bad news to me. It wasn’t a lizard. It was a mouse.
Of course, I couldn’t resist seeing this for myself. I got down on the floor, flashed the light under the couch and saw two little round eyes glistening right back at me. Immediately, my imagination ran away from me, and I pictured this thing running at me at full-force as my head lay close to the ground. With this in mind, I stood up right away and tried to figure out what you do when you have a mouse hiding under your couch.
Neither one of us had much experience with mice, so it took us some time to think this one through. At first, like two idiots, we thought we’d try to poke him out from under the couch with a yard stick, then when we got him to run out, I’d throw the kitchen trashcan on top of him. There was no plan after that. It was just, catch him with the trashcan. When that inevitably didn’t work, we came up with another plan. First, we threw some mice poisoning and traps under the couch. Then, we decided to use every single thick book our landlord owns and place them all around the bottom of the couch. After that, we stuffed any openings and holes with old towels. Once we were satisfied with our trap, we went to bed.
In the morning, my suspicions about this mouse’s ability to get out of our trap appeared to be true. There was no sign of him. He had clearly tried to eat his way through a few of the books as well as some of the poisoning, but I concluded that he had gotten away within a hair of his own life. He was probably laying half dead somewhere with a belly ache from the poison. The dogs still seemed a bit excited by his lingering scent, but since there was no sign of him I left for work without further thought over the matter.
Later in the day I received a strange text message from my boyfriend, showing not one, but two of our wacky landlord’s swords from his random sword collection, stuck in our couch. The message said, “Those swords really come in handy when you need to kill a mouse in the couch.” After I professed to him that he was my hero, he made sure to proudly reinforce the fact that it had taken both of the swords to do away with this feisty rodent.
I got all the details of the matter when I got home, which I will spare you, but suffice it to say that when/if the next mouse decides to breach the gates of hell by coming into our home, my boyfriend – a regular William Wallace - will be ready.
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