06/12/2026
I am a wee bit scared of mice...terrified would be a better word for it. Over the years, I have written about my run-ins with these little, satan-filled rodents. This story happened a couple of years ago.
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I had a mouse loose in my living room and it was only three feet away from where I was sitting. It was entirely too close. A continent away would not have been far enough away, though, to be honest.
The end was near.
For me...not the mouse.
I was standing on my recliner, watching the play-by-play with my cat, Shegwa, and his newest frenemy.
The cat started growling.
Please God....kill the stupid mouse!!!!
Why was it not dead yet????
There was no escape. The cat and his half-dead friend had blocked my front door.
Shegwa was apparently giving the mouse mouth-to-mouth resuscitationin a bid to keep it alive longer.
Their tussle had turned into some sort of horrifyingly, terrible, surreal soccer match.
Oh, good grief, the goal line moved right in front of my chair.
I don't know if that counted as a basket or a touchdown, but the mouse was tossed in the air. Field goal? Three pointer?
I think I might have just peed a little.
It was dead. The mouse was now a cat toy.
Never mind...it twitched...somehow it was apparently still alive. How??? Why???
I didn't check for vitals to confirm anything. I didn't care if I was violating good Samaritan laws or not. I just needed it
gone.
I did not take a breath for over ten minutes and I was more stiff than the rodent.
It ended finally when my mom took pity on her pathetic daughter and rescued me.
I will never be that good a mom.