Mouse: 1 Three Humans and Two Pit Bulls: 0

Two things to know  - first it is fall in Wyoming which means the mice are looking for winter digs. Second, I loathe mice. It has to do with a dozen white lab mice, the movie Old Yeller, and a nine-year-old who had just read about Louis Pasteur. On with the story…

It was 10:30 p.m. I am spending some nice quiet time in the “reading room” when I hear an old noise. Assuming it is the dishwasher on the other side of the wall, I ignore it. Just then a tiny brown mouse raced past my feet. I let loose with an oath that would not be out of place in a Marine Corps barracks. The mouse skids behind the sink.

Thirty seconds later, it blasts out from under the sink, drifting the turns like it is auditioning for Fast and Furious, and vanishes into the linen closet. Since I can now escape in safety, I open the bathroom door. On the other side are my husband and Diesel, the dog of very little brains. Both are staring at me in consternation.

I decide to open the linen closet. This frightens the mouse into action, and it screams past husband and dog. One leaps into the air with a startled shriek. The other looks at me in consternation with tongue lolling out of mouth.

The mouse is now behind the dog kennels and oldest child appears from the basement to get into the fun. We release Tira, the Kali Durga of rodents, and she immediately focuses in on a bookshelf. Child picks up a heavy planter, overhanging with vines, so we can move the bookshelf
. Husband arms himself with a broom. I slide the kennels away from the wall and Tira …misses the mouse. It darts out past husband who immediately starts swinging with the broom. Child is between him and the mouse but well within range of the broom. Child waltzes out of the way, snapping the trailing vines off of the mother plant.

Tira dodges the broom, following the mouse who has far better traction on the wood floor than she does. Diesel follows the commotion, trying to decide if he should bite someone on general principles or just have fun with his humans and this weird game. Mouse escapes somewhere in the kitchen.

Thirty minutes later, we have repaired all the chaos to the house furniture, placed the vines into water, and made plans for future battle with our unwanted guests. As for the mouse, I rather suspect it broke into the liquor cabinet and is now passed out with its nasty mousie friends under the dishwasher.