As everyone sooner or later learns, the key to removing a mouse from your house is having enough kitchenware on hand. What we needed was a lip-less cookie sheet and a pitcher with a snug lid.
Having assembled the proper tools, it was time for man and wife to argue about how to proceed while children threatened the success of every step with meddling curiosity.
I slid the cover enclosing the mouse onto the cookie sheet. Now the rodent dungeon was mobile. My wife was in favor of just throwing the prisoner outside and being done with it, but I was not taking such chances with a trespasser who already knew his way in. We were going to put some distance between him and us.
Since nobody volunteered to ride in the car with Mad Mouse Beyond Thunderdome on their lap, I had to make the prisoner more secure. I made my wife come outside with me to transact the transfer.
If you and your spouse ever need to partner in moving a mouse from under a dish cover on a cookie sheet into a juice pitcher, be prepared for the ultimate test of your marriage. It should be one of the challenges on The Amazing Race, because it’s that full of drama.
A trapped mouse is a ferocious animal who will use any available part of your body to facilitate his escape, sending you into paroxysms of terror. Should this psychologically scarring event come to pass, it will be your spouse’s fault. This is a given. Your relationship may never be the same.
My wife chose to be the slider, leaving me the catching duties. She was skeptical of the plan from the first, predicting that the mouse would avoid the pitcher as the cover slid clear of the cookie sheet.
“If you do it quickly, he’ll have no place else to go,” I reassured her.
She was not reassured. “He’ll climb around the edge,” she insisted as she began her methodical sliding of the cover.
“Not if you do it quickly,” I repeated, attempting to prod her to swifter movement.
She shot back something about losing track of the mouse if she went too fast.
She was giving him too much time to think. “If you do it quickly!” I demanded.
A spouse who doubts your plan is unlikely to execute it quickly. She continued sliding the cover at her deliberate pace – to better identify the exact moment of failure.
“If you do it quickly!” No doubt, the vein was bulging in my neck. Dangerous animals have that effect upon me.
She gave me the famous “Say that one more time!” look.
The mouse, disoriented by my frantic bellowing, allowed himself to drop into the pitcher. I covered it with a sigh of relief.
My wife was back inside the house, having closed the door on both pests left outside.
I drove the mouse to a spot that looked ripe for colonization and set him free.
Then I went home to tell the cat he could come out of hiding and practice talking nice to my wife.