The Bitch is Back

No, not me, the mouse. I'm actually not sure if it's a bitch or a butch, but I do know that it's a bitch having to pound on the closet before I open it and having to map out the D-con placement every weekend. Why won't they leave me alone? I have no food in the house! Lou's dog food is in a mouse-proof plastic container! And yet, I am set upon, put upon and just generally tormented by their beady-eyed little scampering bodies. Yuckarooni.

Here's what happened -- I was cleaning the apartment, doing some purging of the piles of paper I have stacked (neatly) around the place, when I thought I saw Jack (the name for this new mouse, which is short for Jackass) run across MY BEDROOM floor. Now, had it been the kitchen, I might have been able to understand. But, my bedroom? Come on! There's no food in there ... or maybe it was the paper. In any case, you know how you think you see something out of the corner of your eye, but you're not sure? So, I chose to go with the "not sure", and continued on my merry way ... that is, until I actually saw the bugger run out from under my bed, get confused about the stacks I was working on in the middle of the floor, and high tail it INTO MY BEDROOM CLOSET. That's where I KEEP MY CLOTHES!

Now, the bad thing about this was that when I saw the mouse, I had an America's Funniest Home Videos moment, and I screamed in the back of my throat, jumped in the air, slipped on the stupid bamboo rug in the bedroom, fell, hit my head on the wall, and then scrambled up on wobbly legs so I could jump in the air some more. This whole time? Lou is laying on the bed looking at me like, "What the hell is wrong with you? I'm trying to sleep here." I ask myself why I love that dog, and the answer is, "Because you're crazy."

Imagine that I've posted here a picture of a mouse with devil horns. I can't make Flickr upload the photo, but it's a humdinger. And, the mouse is about to be a humdeader. I'll put the mouse pix up tomorrow. More good stuff later. P.O.Y. - j.