Positively Scarred

We had a mouse living in our garage. Notice the past tense. Mom would see him come out from behind the sink, climb up on the vacuum, up the cord, hop over to the recycling bins, circle the bin, hop back to the cord, down the cord, around the vacuum, hop down, and run back behind the sink.

It was like an exercise wheel. And boy, was this mouse smart.

We (the family and I) went to my step dad’s make up softball game on Tuesday. (Make up from the week we were rained out.) Kris (step dad) was going to put on his cleats and notices that his bag of sunflower seeds has a hole in it. And then, oh, look, there are empty shells in the other shoe! This mouse chewed a hole in the bag, got the seeds, and left the empty shells in the other shoe. This is one smart son of a bitch.

So then Kris is looking through his bag, checking for holes or bite marks and finds nothing. He pulls out his glove and LO AND BEHOLD, there’s a mouse. He jumps out at Kris’ face and somehow manages to fall on the ground without breaking himself. Then he runs through the dugout, out the gate and across the grass.

I guess this means we’re now in the mouse relocation business.