As many of you have seen in #travelswithboo and previous blogs, my kitty, Boo, travels to Florida with us each year. He’s quite the mouse slayer and as a result, we have very little problem in the renovated circa 1900 farm house where we live. Before we left Maryland this winter, Boo hadn’t had much action trying to catch any mice. It seems they steer clear of him when we’re home, but when we returned from a month in Florida, they’d taken the opportunity to move in for a short-term rental.
Last night, Boo spent the night on the back porch, refusing to come inside as he was on a stake out. He will sit for hours and stare, if he thinks there’s a rodent in the room, so I left him there.
We woke at 5:30 AM to get ready for an early flight to Dallas. When I came downstairs, Boo was crying at the back door window wanting inside. I let him in, and he went straight to his dish for breakfast. I headed back upstairs to finish getting ready for the trip.
A few minutes later, Frank hollered from the kitchen, “Boo’s chasing a mouse down here!”’
When I came downstairs, Boo was sniffing around my tennis shoes and boots. “I need to wear those, Boo. You’d better not leave him in my shoe!” I shook the tennis shoes extra good to ensure they were empty before putting them on.
Frank laughed and said, “He had him in his mouth for a minute with the tail hanging out!” We giggled.
“Mickey had a Jonah and the whale moment. I guess he lived to die another day,” I said.
In our kitchen, there are two backless bar stools at the counter. My sweater was draped over one and now Boo thought the mouse was somewhere nearby. I pulled the sweater off the stool. “He’s not here, buddy.” I said sitting down on the other stool for a minute. We chuckled and Frank teased him at his inability to catch Mickey. Boo ignored the chiding and continued to sniff around under the counter near the stools.
I finished my coffee and walked to the sink to start the dishwasher. Reaching around to scratch my neck, I felt what I thought was a bug on my back. Feeling a lump, I pulled my shirt away from my back and plop on the floor fell the mouse. Shrieking, I looked at Frank and yelled, “The mouse was crawling up my back!” I was in shock and will never forget the sight of the mouse lying prostate on the floor. The next time I looked down, Mickey was gone.
I jumped around in the kitchen, shaking my body and ran my fingers through my hair to make sure the little bugger was truly gone. I now know what it is to “feel my skin crawl.”
Boo was undaunted by my theatrics and continued to stalk around the bar stools. We loaded the truck and took off for the airport. I don’t yet know if he found the mouse, but I know he won’t give up. Unless Mickey lets the word out, there will be more where that came from until Boo officially issues an eviction notice. I still can’t figure how that mouse got under my sweater. Either he jumps really high or can climb a wooden stool. Either way, I was counting on Boo to find him and send him packing before I get home.
After we left, my granddaughter, Maddy, stayed at the house to Boo sit. We didn’t have a chance to talk, so she knew nothing of Boo’s stake out. A day or so later, Maddy texted (you know, preferred method of communication by young folks these days). She asked, “Did you know you have mice? Don’t know if Boo brought him in, but he was hiding in your boot. LOL.”