f you haven’t read “The Mouse House Parts I and II”, please do..They are essential to this piece and will bring you up to speed in my oh so terrible infestation of the demon vermin.
So the mice began dying in my walls, as promised by the exterminator. I still can’t even remember the exterminators face...I can only remember this words..”I found evidence in every room of this house...You have a problem here..If you are seeing them in daylight, that is a clue that there are many living in this house and they have been here awhile.” I can only remember going into the horrid excuse of a bathroom and staring at myself in the face and thinking, “this is NOT happening. This just doesn’t HAPPEN to me. Not after what I went through at the OTHER house.” Yes, I also went through yet ANOTHER bad experience at ANOTHER bad house. Except that house was infested with BUGS, had feral cats in the basement who were probably dealing illegal catnip, and was actually FALLING APART. The tub swayed and rocked each time I took a shower. I swore that one time the tub was definitely going through the floor and I was going to end up in my kitchen. And then I was going to have to call 911 and be naked when the firemen arrive. And be mortified. But that’s a whole OTHER story.
The pungent smell of dead mice is not something someone forgets easily. I can still smell it in my sleep sometimes. I think that it is permanently on the DNA on my nose hairs. The smell was so bad that each time I came home from work, I literally lit every candle in the house. The neighbors probably though I was doing some sort of sacrifice each day, or had some sort of witchcraft ritual going on. Little did they know that there was a sacrifice going on...It was called DYING MICE IN WALLS. The smell was so bad that I thought I was carrying it everywhere with me. I was constantly smelling myself while I was out and I ALWAYS check my shoes before I put them on. What if one of them decided to curl up and die inside my stiletto? Oh how my life would be forever damaged if my foot even TOUCHED a mouse, never mind crushed it inside a shoe.
So, I think that the mice ate all of the poison, because slowly, the smell dissipated and I was able to breath without choking or feeling like I needed a gas mask. Yes, I still had the ritual of bleaching my counters each morning, just to be sure a mouseketeer didn't decided to go all kamikaze on the place, and I was constantly searching for EVIDENCE. And yes, I still found regular evidence. I found mouse poop virtually everywhere, but I remained convinced that it was from before the poison.
Until I was given a present.
I came home from work and went to put away my shoes in my closet.
What was that on my floor...In the middle of the entry way of my room. I really never leave things laying around with a baby and all and...AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!
IT’S WAS A FREAKING DEAD MOUSE!
WITH NO HEAD!
A HEADLESS MOUSE!
IN MY BEDROOM!!
I staggered into the living area to sit on the couch before I passed out. Hot flash and then a freezing ice chill of reality. They were still there. In the house. I was living side by side with my worst fear...freaking dirty 4 legged demons who loved to poop on any surface possible. We were definitely infested. And the gift in the doorway was clearly from my cat, Joy, who was strutting around the place like she was the hottest thing since self clumping kitty litter.
Again, a call to the landlord who looked like her skin was going to come OFF her face and form a puddle at her feet. She was THAT saggy. “There are no mice in that house.” She reported, once again, to my mother-in-law, Judy.
“OK...gloves are off. I am delivering the HEADLESS MOUSE to her DINNER TABLE when she is throwing one of her fancy “cocktail parties”, I said as I stomped around the house...In shoes, of course. I would never in a million gazillion years go without some kind of protection on my feet in that house. The thought of touching anything remotely mouse-like was too much for me to handle.
“Well, the good news is, is that the mouse was dead. And probably this was just a fluke,” Judy said.
“Oh no...I can’t take that kind of chance”, I said.
“Sarah, calm down. We’ll wait to see if anything else happens.” Chris said.
Fast Forward One week::::::
Chris and I were watching television one night.
“Did you just hear that?” I asked.
“Hear what?” Chris asked.
“SCAMPERING!”
We both listened as Chris put the tv on mute.
Sure enough. SCAMPERING in the attic. Clear as day. Little feet running from one end of the ceiling to the other...And then back again. And then back again. I think that my eyes bugged out of my head and my fingernails may have ripped the leather of the chair I was sitting in. I tend to get all superhuman when I am scared. I can deal with the crisis at hand...And then I fall apart later.
I looked at Chris and busted out in hysterics. I think I just about lost my mind in that minute. We were not the ones renting that house..We were the ones who were the impostors. The mice ruled that house. And it was, at that particular time, hysterical. I could just picture it….The little demons, knitting and rocking in their chairs mourning their dead in my walls and plotting their revenge while their young played with an acorn. Rolling it all across the attic. Therefore, driving me into hysterics and quite possibly on the brink of clinical insanity.
More traps were set and more mice were caught and more denial came from the Ghost of Christmas Past across the street.
Every single time I pulled into the driveway I paused. To take a deep breath because Lord only knew what had happened in that house today and what possibly was waiting for me..Or worse. What I DIDN’T know happened and never would know. The tails dragging on my countertops, the teeth pulling on my comforter. And I knew they were getting bigger because the sounds from inside the walls were getting louder and the playing with the acorns upstairs became more like a professional soccer match. And we even contemplated that there were squirrels joining in on the party up there. Hey, the more the merrier.
As time went on, I bit my tongue and tapped my foot bidding my time until our lease would be up. Another headless mouse was found on my bed and I again, was found having another panic attack which lead to another bought of intense rage and fit throwing accompanied with tears. And yet another was found in my husband’s SHOE under his bedside table.
I ended up finding out I was pregnant for my second baby while we were living in that god forsaken house. I won’t go into detail, but, no, mice DO NOT turn me on. I was having a normal pregnancy. Well, for me, that is. I was downing a pint of Ben and Jerry’s a night accompanied with the occasional pie which turned into a pie obsession. Anyways, I digress. I was filling up the cat bowl for what seemed like the 80th time in a week.
“What the heck?” I said, as I rolled myself over to sit on the couch.
“What?” Chris said.
“I feel like the cat is eating for 40 people! I mean, she eat more than me and she weighs 6 pounds soaking wet! The cat never grew past 6 months old! Where is she putting it all?” I huffed.
“Huh.” Was all Chris had to say.
Fast forward a couple of months. I had a complication which put me in the hospital for some “baby monitoring”. Baby was fine and I was fine and we all went home, one happy family. We got home very late and I slipped (excuse me..I didn’t “slip” at this point..I hefted) myself into bed and fell asleep.
5 A.M.
I feel the cat jump onto the bed. I have really have no idea what made me open my eyes at this point. But what I saw sent hardcore adrenaline shooting through my veins like crack on fire.
She was THROWING a MOUSE in the AIR on my PILLOW. A LIVE MOUSE.
“AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” I screamed. “MOUSE IN THE BED! MOUSE IN THE BED!” I jumped out of bed and ran into the bathroom where I continued to scream.
Chris bolted upright in bed, “What?”
“MOUSE IN THE BED!!”
Chris froze and looked at my pillow where the cat was with the mouse. He shooed the cat away (big mistake) and tried to handle the mouse my himself. With no contacts in his eyes. He was blind.
“The mouse is stunned! Hand me some toilet paper!” Chris yelled from the bedroom.
I opened the door, threw the toilet paper at him and took a peek. There it was. A grey lump in the middle of the bed. Lying still. Chris hesitated and it got up.
“AHHHHHHHHHHHH!!”
The mouse escaped. And was never found. I am sure he went to rally.
As did I.
