The Overly Friendly Holiday Mouse T'was a cold winter's night close to Christmas when we Risners nestled down in our recliners. Harold watching television, and me stitching on my Grandmother's Fan quilt spread in hills and valleys on my lap and cascading over my feet to the floor. Mid evening the quiet was broken when Harold spotted a mouse flash from the dining room into the living room. The furry speed demon ducked under the couch but not for long. For half an hour, Harold insisted on giving me a play by play of the mouse's marathon as he crisscrossed the room, looking for a suitable nest for the long winter night. On the mouse's next sprint, Harold announced the four legged racer dashed under the couch. After that nothing but silence which meant Harold didn't see the mouse anymore or was interested in television or he dozed off. I concentrated on my stitches. It was the dark movement on the quilt above my knee that made me glanced up. The MOUSE peeked over the bunched quilt at me. His beady, glittering, tiny eyes stared into my startled, wide eyes. My thought was now was when Harold should have given me a mouse alert. Remember me. I'm the one that didn't make a sound as the rat, AKA Sweet Potato Thief, propelled himself toward the live trap door, busted the door and catapulted to the basement floor. Mice have the opposite affect on me, especially one in my lap. I screamed at the top of my lungs. The mouse took my not too subtle hint and in the wink of an eye scampered over my feet and down the quilt. Now I had Harold's attention. His recliner came up with a clatter. “Are you having a heart attack?” I shot out of my recliner and frantically shook the quilt while I watched around my feet. “I don't know. I might be. Let me take my pulse, and I'll get back to you on that. The mouse was in my lap, walking all over my quilt with his dirty feet and staring at me.” “I didn't see him,” Harold said as if this was no big deal. “Of course not. You had to be awake to see him. Next time I will shoo him your direction so he can sit in your lap,” I offered. The rest of the evening as I kept a watchful eye, I made sure my quilt was piled high in my lap instead of dragging on the floor. As I quilted my problem solving skills began forming in my mind. Obviously, I didn't have enough sticky traps statically placed. I'd buy more. For a few minutes, I contemplated placing the traps all around my recliner for protection from lap mice. Maybe I could make a small sign with an arrow on it, pointing to Harold's recliner, signifying that way to the mouse's next race track. Nah, extra sticky traps were a bad idea! No way would that work. I'd be the one to get stuck in the sticky traps. Besides, I was hoping that mouse wasn't dumb enough to try scaling Mount Quilt again after the reception I gave him. So I did what I thought was the logical thing by surrounding the couch with sticky traps and hoped we didn't have company. UPDATE: I'm happy to announce in this house not a creature is stirring except the two large ones in their recliners wishing all of you Merry Christmas and a Happy, Healthy, Varmint Free 2019.
A woman that has worn many hats in my life time. Join me here and find out about those hats.