Over the weekend, we went to my parents’ place for a family dinner and got a little more than we bargained for: Some turkey, a bit of leftover stuffing, and a live mouse.
Here’s what happened:
Dinner is winding down and we’re all laughing and having a good time. Well, everyone except me I suppose, since I have been cornered again by Captive Talker and can’t seem to think of a single thing to say that will allow me to escape her talky grasp.
For a half an hour or so, Captive Talker has been droning on about how positive thinking led her to her destiny as a reiki practitioner. Then suddenly, my negative thinking leads me to my destiny as a mouse owner.
Out of the corner of my eye I spot one, scampering through the dining room, toward the living room.
“Oh my God, a mouse!” I shout.
From here on out, it is utter chaos, as my mom, sister, and cousins, scream the most blood curdling screams you’ve ever heard in your life. Plates are knocked to the floor, red wine is spilt on the ivory tablecloth, and people are shivering with fear, as they peer down from atop their chairs.
“It’s just a little mouse,” I say calmly as I sip my red wine. I’m just so relieved that I’m free again. (Captive Talker can’t exactly go on about reiki when she is standing on the table screaming.)
My mom is humiliated. “How the hell did a mouse get in here?" she hollers. "We’ve NEVER had one in here before." My poor mom has slaved all day, trying to impress her guests with an elaborate dinner and place settings with people’s names on them, and then a mouse scampers through her dining room, ruining everything.
“Someone kill it,” my cousin (Mother Germ) shouts. “It’s probably carrying diseases!”
“You carry diseases but we don’t try to kill you,” I want to say, but bite my tongue.
By now, the Feral Cats have emerged from their hole (upstairs in the den) to see what all the commotion is about and in two minutes flat, one of them has captured the poor thing under a Tupperware container. (Wow, they really are Feral Cats, I think to myself in awe.)
“Step on it!“
“Kill the f****er!”
People are shouting from their chairs.
“NO!” I scream, as I go over and stand between Feral Cat One and the mouse. “You guys are so mean! It’s just an innocent little mouse!”
“Well what do you expect me to do with it? We can’t put it outside - it will freeze,” my mom says, still flustered.
“I don’t know, but we can’t kill it,” I say. “We’ll have to figure something out.”
An hour later, my mom is sending me home with two Tupperware containers: one full of turkey and the other full of mouse.
When we get home, I dig out an old aquarium I had from when I was a kid and set the lucky bastard in it with some breadcrumbs. Then I duct tape the lid so that he can’t escape and give us all the black plague.
I really hope the humane society takes mice.