Rachel truly is the mouse whisperer. We had an incident this weekend with a mouse in the house. I am absolutely terrified of rodents. Really, I have sweaty palms, weak knees, the whole nine yards. Gee would laugh at me...saying crap like it makes no sense....yeah that's why it's called an irrational fear!!!!
First some background. About three years ago,this same time of year, I heard something in the hall. When I went to see what it was the cat was rolling on the carpet. I said something like hi kitty and out of the corner of my eye I saw something move, a chipmunk was sitting on the hall table cleaning his whiskers...I screamed, the chipmunk jumped off the table, cat chasing it down. I'm yelling at Gee get it, get it.....anyway I called my friend Laureen what do I do....her husband David tells me open the doors, make a racket by beating on some pans and it should run out....ok I open the doors and start beating the crap out of a metal bowl, Gee starts yelling he's not heating the outside and shuts the doors, I start yelling If you'd just help me get the little bastard out we could shut the doors... then it runs from the dining room almost over Gee's feet. So we open the doors and start beating them again making a hell of a racket, out the door goes the chipmunk.
So fast forward to late Thursday. Rachel wakes me up about 1 am, the cellar door is open and the cat was chasing something. I get up put the hall light on and there they go the cat running after a mouse. Shit, ok well what now.....we left the hall light on, shut the bedroom doors and hoped the cat got the mouse. The cat spent the day looking at the hall clock. Next day he's watching the radiator in the kitchen. I'm thinking the little bugger got away, until this afternoon. Fred is in the kitchen trying to dig his way under the hutch in the kitchen....what is wrong with you dopey dog and then I see it running back and forth along that wall in the kitchen!! So now I'm standing on a chair beating around the hutch with a broom and off he runs behind the dog cage into the living room under the couch. So we put Fred out and open the door, I am beating this metal bowl to death with a wooden spoon and Rachel is watching me not quite laughing but is very amused at this point, because it isn't working. I go back in the kitchen and she says I see him very quietly. He's smelling the fresh air, every time he comes out a bit further and runs back but after about 30 minutes the little bugger makes a run for the door and out he goes!!! She shuts the door and laughs at me.... What would I have done if she hadn't been home? I have no idea. Thankfully I don't have to figure that out!