Wednesday, 21 August 2013
I got the call from the transplant coordinator last week in the evening as my family was finishing up supper. We were all pretty tired from spending the day cycling and swimming. My sister and I had done a short 13 km route while everyone else had a 40 km ride (yes I took my oxygen tank with me). So we were all drinking tea in the living room discussing my acceptance into the transplant program when a brown mouse scurried behind the couch.
Immediately all focus was off the transplant as Mom screamed, jumped off the couch, and and ran into the kitchen. Dad also moved pretty fast off the couch to arm himself with a broom. We had seen a mouse the night before in the kitchen while having an intense game of 45s but it ran under the stove before we could do anything. We had been hoping that it was one time occurrence. Apparently not. Mom had emailed the owner that first night to let them know about the mouse sighting and he said that traps would be dropped off but they hadn't arrived that day.
No one was thrilled about this second mouse sighting. Mom was convinced that the mouse had ran into their room which was off the living area. We all tried to convince her that it had crawled under the couch/pull out bed instead. Isaiah was sleeping on the couch so he was not please with that speculation and thought maybe the couch should be moved to take a look.
Mom armed herself with a broom while Dad and Isaiah, holding a broom and garbage can respectively, slowly pulled out the bed. Amy and I were content to watch the show from our chairs on the other side of the room. No one actually mentioned a plan but I think the unspoken idea was to have Dad and Isaiah force it out of the bed and if it didn't somehow jump into the garbage can itself, Mom would sweep it toward the screen door at which point Amy or I would somehow leap up over the fleeing mouse to open the door and let it out of the cottage. It was a fool-proof plan.
Unfortunately, we never got to see our plan in action as the mouse was no where to be found. We then unanimously decided to move into the kitchen to play some board games while another not-so-friendly-email was sent to the owner inquiring again about traps.
That night after everyone had calmed down, Amy and I were drifting off to sleep in our bunk beds when we heard a scream from the bedroom followed by the sound of a door opening and someone fleeing the room. Apparently while reading in bed, Mom saw the mouse run underneath the bed and crawl into the register. So we all spent the next 20 minutes laying in bed listening to the sound of tape ripping as Dad duct-taped the register closed. Every time we thought that must be the end, another piece of tape was put on the register. They were not taking any chances of the mouse crawling back into the room. Amy and I started to feel bad for the little mouse stuck in the register starving away from its mouse family and friends. Dad, on the other hand, felt no such sympathy as the next morning when the traps arrived he was quick to set them up with cheese and peanut butter and was determined to catch the mice.
All in all, it was quite the distraction from me focusing and over-thinking about the transplant that night. Of course I over-thought about it the next night and pretty much every night since but that one mouse night I was able to catch a break.
We did end up catching two mice by the end of the week so this week's cottage dwellers have us to thank for their relaxing mouse-free nights.