As you read this, keep in mind that mice are my one BIG weak spot. As I've posted before, I can handle spiders, bugs, snakes, worms etc. Mice on the other hand, make me scream like a little girl and run for protection.
This story begins in the middle of July. Stephen told me he spotted a mouse or should I say a shrew in the garage. He was out there and it ran right in front of Pear. A week or so passed and I opened the door to go into the garage and sure enough, I spotted this mouse! I slammed the door and ran inside and told Stephen that I wasn't going anywhere until he got rid of that mouse. My hero ventured into the garage to find the mouse crawling along as if partially ran over by a car. Whoops. He scooped it up and threw it outside, where we hoped a cat might come and eat him up. A couple of weeks later, we began noticing a smell in the garage; a sort of rotting rodent smell. We assumed that he must have came back in the garage, died and started decaying. Once again, my hero went out to search but found nothing this time. We either became accustomed to the smell or it began to fade as the months lingered.
This last weekend Stephen, Pear and I set out to do some yard work. It was beautiful outside and we needed to get some final pruning, cutting and cleaning done. I got Pear all bundled up in play clothes and sent her out with daddy. I then got ready myself to go out. As you can imagine, being 37 weeks pregnant doesn't exactly make putting shoes, socks, or even pants on an easy task. So it took me a few minutes. I went out to the garage to get my grubby tennis shoes. I brought them in the house, plopped myself on the ground and held my breath for a second while trying to slip the shoe onto my foot only to be shocked by a little, dead, decaying mouse sliding out onto the floor in front of me. I jumped up faster than I imagined I could and ran out the door in a panicked state. I was so grossed out and scared that it was almost like one of those bad dreams that you try to scream but you can't...you know what I mean, right? I told Stephen of my discovery and that I needed him to go in the house and do something with that mouse as quickly as he possibly could. He laughed, went inside, got the mouse and told me to put my shoes on and come out. Can you believe that he expected me to wear the shoes again? There is no possible way I could ever put those shoes on again! I almost gag just thinking about it. I dug out some other shoes to wear and went outside to work.
And that is the tale of a mouse. The stench in the garage has dissipated and I will never keep anything outside or in the garage that I have to touch with bare hands or put on my feet again.