Of Mice and Girls.

The unfortunate thing about living in an old house in the country is that somehow mice always seem to find a way in. Now, I am not writing this post to gross you out or to make you squirm at the very thought of coming to visit my parents (though reading this might do just that) I am merely telling you this story to... No, I have to be honest, it's pretty much just to gross you out.

I was in the kitchen a while back with my sisters Heather and Jessica. We were looking up videos on my computer and carrying on some random conversation. In the midst of all the voices I could hear a constant sound. It's pitch was high and I was certain I had heard it before...but never in a kitchen. Again and again I heard the sound. Again and again until I could stand it no more.

"Why is there a chicken in the house??" I demanded out loud for anyone to answer. My sisters were stunned with confusion at my question and they proceeded to tell me that it was actually not a chicken but a mouse. I looked over in time to see a small gray blur rush along the white counter tops and dive behind the large oven.

Many years ago my family raised chickens in a coop quite far from the house. I use to feed and tend them as best as any ten year old could. I loved the chickens! I liked feeding them and gathering eggs. Once in a while my family would leave a few eggs and let them hatch and watch the chicks grow up into hens. That's why the sound was familiar to me. It sounded like baby chicks. On this occasion, however, it was not a chicken.

As my sisters and I continued our conversations I kept watch on the mouse. It seemed to have a pattern. Run out from behind the oven, race along the counter, and then run back. It did this a few times until I had had enough. I made up my mind that if it came out again, there was no way it was going to go back. So, when it decided to race out from behind the oven and run along the counter, I grabbed the broom. I watched the ugly rodent dive under the stereo and push itself farther and farther through our kitchen appliances in hope of escape. I took the broom and laid it across the counter, blocking it's path back to the oven. (And yes, I do realize that having a broom on the counter isn't exactly the most sanitary thing, but neither is having a mouse running around and pooping wherever it pleases, so I thought this was an exception.)

Once the path was blocked I began pushing the appliances and stereo and everything n the counter toward one corner, hoping to unsettle the little vermin and have it come out of it's hiding spot. As I pushed, my little sister watched from over my shoulder. As we stood there waiting, we could see nothing. No movement at all. Well, that was unusual. When I realized this I changed tactics and began moving everything away from the corner. I moved the stereo first and what my sister and I saw was so horrible, so disgusting, so positively despicable that we both turned away and groaned. The mouse had been squished under the stereo when I had pushed it into the corner. It's body was now flattened to the counter, it's tongue sticking out and it's eyes closed for an even greater effect. It was so gross! We ran downstairs to our dad and asked him to get ride of the thing. Neither of us were about to even get near it. I hate mice!