|Mr. Scritchy wasn't this cute.|
We found no further signs of Mr. Scritchy until a week or so later, as we were getting ready to go to bed the little so & so popped out of the office from an open knot hole in the flooring. Ron scared the little guy so badly that he ran down the ledge of the wall leading to the staircase and slipped off the end and fell a good three feet to the stairs and scurried down and in to the living room. We deployed a familiar tactic, but used better materials. We blocked of the entry to the living room with books and pedestals and proceeded to chase Mr. Scritchy around for half an hour. (You have to understand that he was just a teeny little grey mouse with a little pink nose and desperate desire to live.) Most of you know me well enough to know that I hate killing things, so we were trying to catch him alive to take a release somewhere far away. Well he figured out our plan pretty quickly and after rushing me a few time (he sensed I was the weakest link from the get go) he finally managed to squeeze himself down in to one of our forced air vents. We now refer to this as the Living Room Skirmish. Score one for the mouse.
Disgusted with ourselves for letting him get the better of us, we left up the barrier baited the "never again" traps (aka guillotines) and spent a restless night of shame (cue Alice Cooper's "No More Mr. Niceguy"). The next morning the traps were empty and there was no sign of Mr. Scritchy. We tried to logic it out...the vent pipes led down to a place where he could have slipped out and we hoped that had made his way in to the basement where he couldn't do any harm and it was unlikely that he'd get back in to the main part of the house. We just couldn't be sure. We were relieved, we don't abide free loaders and he certainly wasn't helping with the rent, but we could wonder and hope that he was really gone.
This morning Mr. Scritchy was a found...a victim of his own cleverness, he'd come back to the living room and been caught in one of the snap traps. (Thank heavens I didn't see him...I would have felt horribly guilty.) Rest in peace little fella' or in your next life bring your wallet with you.