The Mouse Chronicles

We all have an aversion to the idea of rats, and rodents intermingling with us. The idea of these critters getting into our domiciles raises a collective sense of consternation.
I am no different. I join the rest of the world in that sentiment.. I share that aversion. The closest civilization will ever indulge a rodent is by keeping a mouse or two in a cage as a pet. Perhaps it's the collective subconscious - bubonic memories. The Black Death. But hold on. Don't panic. That plague was caused by fleas transmitting Yersina Pestis, a bacteria. For that we have anitobotics. Stil collective memories die hard.

But a mouse has come in my house. He hasn't brought a cage with him. So, he doesn't fit into the pet catagory. But does he represent a plague or a revolting infestation? No, to me he seems like seasonal magic. A happening. At least for the moment. Whether this mouse deviates from quaint and seasonal poetry is yet to be determined

But is he acceptable? Let's see....mmm...; We can envision a mouse or two in a cage with a water bottle, and a treadmill, for sure. But a mouse as uninvited guest? A resident? Yet - somehow, some way, a mouse has got into my house. He is unfettered by a cage. He is a natural fact. A mouse fact. But not a plague or an omen. He is a guest for a season..because I find him acceptable.
He has scampered in, that's what they do. They Scamper. And, I am mystified. I don't know how he scampered in here. Maybe someone left the back door open. But he's not a store bought pet, he is a seredipity - and a welfcome resident. But, who said so? Well, he says so. and so I say so. This mouse has gumption. And for now, he is acceptable to me. and I'm ok with him, as it seems to be only him, and not his whole family. The reader may have other ideas, but.the reader hasn't been where I have been.

The mouse is happening. He is an event. And somehow he is OK. But how did he ":happen?."

He happened last week:

It was a about a week or so back, when I heard a rustling noise in my room. My bedroom, is in what was the family room, downstairs. My daughter stole my lofty pearch on the third floor. The room I nicknamed "My cloud.." i have fallen from grace. My room is now on the bottom floor. I have fallen from my cloud.. A fallen Angel. That's fine - we're born that way, what else is new?..

I have been very messy of late, allowing papers and crumbs to exist un-swept on the floor, admixed with music equipment and sundry objects - not properly put away.

One night last week, I heard rustling on the floor. That is unusual.

It was episodic rustling -and for a few days - I thought it was the heat coming on for the winter, blowing papers all about. But, I changed my mind when I realized the sound had a track. It sounded like something, running. It was originating on the other side of my bed, where it abutts the wall. So, it wasn't a cat. A cat could not fit there. Too big for such a small rustling...it might have started there..Then, it would cease... and I'd hear it again. Pattering elsewhere...a pitter and a scamper. Not a plonking or stomping or clomping. What ever it was, It was smaller than a breadbox.

It would be a sprint, a scamper, and a tiny bang here and then - there. As if something was navigating the dark room, by trial and error. Unfamiliar territory, nocturnal exploration. Whatever it was, escaped behind my drum set. and then banged into an upright metal closet that stands just behind the bass drum...it is filled with VHS tapes. But the accident would not knock it over.

I realized I had a critter. But, what kind? How big? How many? Flipping on the light told me nothing, as the noise would suddenly stop. As if whatever it was was not doing identification just yet. As I listened, I could tell that "what ever it was," was fairly small. Also, I could tell there was only one them. When this "unknown" hit something, the noises were small. And I didnt hear noises in other areas - at more or less the same time.
I could tell it was only one - by the sound and how it tracked. A rat, a mouse, a chip monk. Not a squirrel. Not a cat. Not a bird. A bird flutters. This was a pitter,not a flutter - and it was a definite patter at times. The noises were too small for a lost misplaced bird. The options were narrowing. But seeing is believing. I was down to a rat, a mouse or chip monk. I suspected a rat or a mouse. Even a chip monk was a little weighty for these light pattering noises. A chip monk was acceptable somehow, a rat was not. From the sound, I was leaning "mouse."

This guy was like a miniture "wind up car.". He'd run for a bit, hit something, back up, and run again - in the dark - as if he was sizing up the place. Figuring out the "lay-out" that he dare not explore during the day. Invariably, he'd bump into something, a tiny tap, not a bump, not a big thump - not really. No noises trailed behind him, or ahead of him. So, I knew it was just one, of, whatever he was..

One day last week, I was coming down the stairs, and I saw him scampering. A Mouse, for sure. But my view was too brief. He ran under the stairs. He must have run in through an unclosed cellar door. Maybe he was seeking refuge from an especially cold day.
Perhaps my daughter left the door open, or my wife - when she was doing laundry.

For some reason, I took pity on the critter. He'd checked in to the wrong motel. We have five mouse harassing predators upstairs, four cats (Don't ask. My house is a zoo.) and a dog. It seemed reasonable that there should be equal time for a mouse to complete the food chain...So, I decided to befriend the little guy. I put a little bowl out. Two actually: one for water and the other for food.
But I don't have mouse food per se.

I grabbed some Frito's corn chips and put them in a bowl on the floor, I found them gone in the morning. So I added more to the bowl. He apparently likes them.

Last week we stopped at McDonald's, my wife and I. I don't go there except for coffee -usually. My wife was hungry and wanted something quickly. She ordered a fruit salad. And, as you know, I had a secret that I wasn't sharing with my her.
She asked me what I wanted, and I said:

"Nothing....No, wait, I'll have one too!" There must have been something too enthusiastic about the way I said it. She was suspicious.

"You never eat here!" she said.

"I know, but I'd like to try one of those. Sounds good!" She looked at me funny. As if I was up to something. I was, I wanted "mouse food" without seeming conspicuous. I didn't want to say anything yet. Saying something is about timing. There's a right time to say something..

The quick meal had grapes, nuts and apple slices...so I left some pieces for the mouse. He ate the nuts but did not eat the grapes or the apple slices. Later he did eat them.
I eventually told my wife about the critter. I wont tell you what she said, but I'll give you a hint: you can add another predator to the list. She is gunning for that mouse.
The other day she called from work and I said: " Can you bring home some Frito's. He likes Frito's"
" For what? "
"For Algernon"
"Who the _)(&()*7243r is Algernon?"
" The mouse"
" Have you gone mental?"
"No"
"I'm not bringing home Fritos, I am bringing home a mouse trap"
"Aw, yer mean...I will let him out in the spring" * Click, she hangs up.
For some reason as we stand on the shore of this Christmas season, I am charmed by the magic of his presence. The happenstance of him. So, I played on that theme with my wife
" ....not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse???"
I was playing on her soft spot for Christmas Season.
She looked at me unphased.
"You have four cats...besides, he's a lucky mouse! Leave him alone".
My wife's eyes narrowed.
"I'll eat him myself" She looked like the cats then. Meanacing..... too believable.

"You will give him PTSD just talking like that...pick on someone your own size, he likes corn chips, Fritos, how bad can he be?.."

My suddenly acquired liberalism is surprising even me.
Only my daughter and myself are charmed by the idea. So, we cover for him, and protect
him from my wife - who is licking her chops. I can see mouse traps in her eyes snap shut.

My wife asked for the debit card...I witheld it "Corn chips, he loves em, you can eat him next week"

Algernon lives another day.
Algernon keeps out of sight for the most part. Who can blame him?. For one week he was heard but not seen for more than a second. But I got a good look at him today, as I was listening to some stuff on headphones. He's a mouse archetype. He has that classice mouse look, but he's smaller than I expected.

How small is he? Pretty small. No bigger than a Chito.

Yesterday, I asked my son to pick up some Fritos and he brought back Chitos. A baggy type cholesterol snack.
"I said Fritos, nor Chitos!"
"That's all they had" I think he's on my wife's side.

I put some of those in the bowl. To my surprise...Algernon ambled out of a wooden crate that I had in a wall closet. It is stuffed with papers and junk, camouflage and protective obstruction for probers. A fortress of kind for all the stuff in it. . It is on the floor of the closet. It's the kind crate you'd pack fruit in. Looks like a pretty neat place for him to hide.

Algernon usually doesn't venture out until nighttime.He prefers the crate to the far side of my bed. He can safely hide in it. He was uncharacteristically bold today. I think he is getting more comfortable with me. i watched him approach the bowl. He seemed nonchalant. He jumped right in the bowl, grabbed a Chito, and jumped out. Back in to the protection of the wooden crate. Treating me to an occasional
"eek... eeek... eeek" These were routine "eeks" run of the mill "eeks"
Not the distress "EEK" you'd expect from a mouse confronting a green eyed monster.
The mouse police. My wife's cats. I have heard that "EEK" before when my daughter had a mouse in a plastic modular mouse house. It was composed of easily collapsible parts. A whack by a cat paw, sent it exploding apart. The mouse was then left vulnerable - a mere mouse morsel, humbled and helpless in the flood lights of cold green feline eyes, on high beam - shaking before shimmering needled teeth and razor claws. That is memorable and distinctive "EEK" the last "EEK, a mouse will ever "EEK"

So much for the pet store mouse.
.

This "eek" didn't sound like the distress of the ill fated pet store mouse of yore. Algernon's "eek" is more like a bitching "eek" that something was annoying and difficult to do. Something was a pain in his little fortress to move.. And, at time's it sounds a plaintive "eek," as tho he missed his mom.


To give you an idea of his size, he is as long as a piece of Chito.but just barely. A finger mouse.A pocket mouse. Very Tiny. Really small, with well groomed brown fur and - pink ears.
He is the stereotype of a field mouse. He is really no longer than my index finger. How could he be trouble?

He fits right in to the now. He is what is happening. A resident. Not an infestation. (There is a qualifying update on this assessment - read below. )

So far - I like the little dude. And as for the cats and the dog?
I think he may be clever enough to last until spring. Although, I am not betting on it. He will have to move out then if he survives. I don't intend to coddle him forever. But for some reason that I can't be explained - he's brightened my mood a little. My mood has not been good for some time. I hope he feels the same. I am broadcasting Algernon news on my face book. page because it seems a fun thing to do.

My daughter from her face book, comments with amusement on the exploits of our new found friend. Awhile ago, she said was going to Wendy's with her mom.

"What do you want?" Wendy's is the only fast food I'll eat.
"Double hamburger with Ketchup and Onions" I always get the same.
"Fries?"
"No, baked potato, we're on a diet, get it?" I said with a wink. One that she couldn't see from the top of the stairs. It was a mental wink. When she got back, I dug out some white fluffy potato starch for my friend...I'll let you know if he likes it.

A friend on facebook suggested I play some pertinent tracks, One Brown Mouse, by Jethro Tull, he wasn't paying attention, I already had played that, when the story broke. But we must be ever mindful of the Mouse Police too. The ever present threat. They don't know about Algernon, yet.

As for my daughter, even tho we share the same sentiments about the fate of our friend, I still want my cloud back. Maybe some day, that will be negotiable. Fallen angels can't be fallen forever - that's no fun. Fallen angels must rise and assume their rightful place on their cloud. Then all will be right with the world.

Oh, he ate the potato.



Addendum: We may have a problem Houston. I heard "eeks" in two locations.

This may not be Christmas Poetry after all... I was definitely awakened by multiple "eeks," in two places. One mouse is cute. Two, is not. So, we'll have to sort this out. The Mouse Chronicles continues. Fritos are on hold for now.