"Get up, there is a mouse in the kitchen and it's trapped under the garbage can."These are the words that woke me from my peaceful slumber this morning. I was panicked and still half dreaming and Ryan's eerie calm wasn't helpful. He spoke of the mouse the same way he'd mention that he'd grabbed the mail. He wasn't panicking and didn't really seem like the rodent who'd infiltrated our kitchen bothered him all that much. In case I haven't said it before, Ryan is definitely the composed one. I panic, he keeps his cool. He goes on to mention the mouse's little pink nose peeking out from under the trash can and tells me that "these things happen".
When I got down stairs, I could hear the little sucker messing about. He couldn't be big, as the space beneath the can is small, but he made his presence known. His menacing little scuffles suggested he was nothing short of a 6 pound sewer rat. Ryan assured me that that wasn't the case.
The first thing I did was ask him what the heck he expected me to do. I have zero experience in matters of extermination and have a mini panic attack when in close proximity to an ant hill. (Ask me about the fire ant attack of 2011. You'd be afraid too.) We managed to concoct a plan consisting of two important steps: #1. Lift garbage can. #2. Cover mouse with wicker basket.
At this point I felt pretty secure with plan of siege, but kept close to the stairs just in case I needed to make a quick escape to safe ground. Ryan knew I might dip out if things got dicey and I made it perfectly clear that I was totally freaked the f&*k out by squealing like a child every time he took a step near the can. Helpful, I know.
By the time Ryan made it to the can and slowly lifted it, I was already half up the stairs, ready to protect my child and I from the beast. Much to our surprise, there was nothing. We assumed the little sucker might be inside the can and thus grabbed the can and launched it onto the front porch. I can only hope our neighbors caught sight of this. If they weren't sure of us before, they might be a little freaked out now.
After beating the hell out of the can with a broom and giving the can a good shakedown, we found nothing. Could the bastard have made a quick escape while we were planning our attack or had he fled once we tossed the can outside? Was there a mouse at all? Was Ryan totally tripping out?!
And so, traps have been set and floors have been swept. We are crumb free and ready for Stuart Little to make another appearance. In the meantime, G and I will be be paroling the house looking for varmint, ready to pounce (or flee) when we see him. Next time, mouse - you're OURS.