December 24, 2016 – Christmas Story No. 4

‘Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house

Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse;

by Clement Clarke Moore

        Two years ago on Christmas Eve we were dressing for church.  We were headed out to Midnight Mass and needed to leave early so that we could listen to the musical program.  Usually I get all dressed up extra nice so that after church I find someone to take our picture together.  [We never seem to have enough pictures of the two of us.]

        I am wearing my black merino wool two piece dress with the rhinestone pansy buttons [which I made] and high heels and am walking toward the lighted Christmas tree in the twilight of the house in order to turn off the lights. I notice something out of the corner of my eye, something scurrying.

        I spot a mouse stirring.    A grey mouse about 2 inches long climbs up the corner ridge of the cabinet of the book case and disappears over the top of the Agatha Christie book collection.

        I am closer now and am pondering this.  I’ve about 10 minutes before we have to leave for church.  A second mouse scurries from the kitchen baseboard to the cabinet and up the same route as the other mouse and vanishes over the books.

        I alert my husband.

        “We’ve mice.”  I declare as he is coming into the living room pulling on his wool blazer.

        “Where?”

        “Behind my beautiful leather books - I hope they haven’t chewed them all up.  TWO of them.”

        “Two?”

        “Yes, I saw one, then the other.  They are not big – about 2 inches long and dark grey.”

        “Where did you see them?”  He asks as he is looking at the books which are about 4 feet from the Christmas tree.

        “Out of the corner of my eye I saw something near the baseboard, came from the kitchen and it climbed up the cabinet front and up and over the books in a flash.”

        “They must have been attracted by this bowl – it has a couple of hazel nuts from Thanksgiving.” My husband suggested.

        I looked at the ruby fluted bowl, a gift from a dear friend.  It was full when I put it there a month ago.  I always love buying nuts at Thanksgiving, especially the hazel nuts. 

        I accused my husband, “Well, if you had eaten them all up, then the mice would not have been attracted.”

        “You know I can’t eat nuts any more – they bother me.” He answered.  I took that comment into consideration and had to admit to myself I had forgotten that.

        He added, “Come on, we will be late, we can deal with that tomorrow.”  He flipped off the tree lights.

        All during Mass my mind was thinking about the pair of mice in my house eating expensive hazelnuts and having a good time chewing up my leather books.  If I saw two – there could be dozen nested behind those books.

        They ate all those nuts?  What a mess must be behind those books.

Couple hours later . . .

        Coming directly in from Midnight Mass, I didn’t even take off my nice clothes and high heels.  I turn on the Christmas tree light; I turn on the lights overhead.

        “I am not going to do this alone – you stay here.”  I demand of my husband.

        I take the bowl and set it aside and then tentatively pulled out one book, no movement.  I pull out a second book, no movement, but when I pull out a clump of three books the two mice dive out of their nest, down the cabinet front and along the baseboard towards the kitchen and duck under the dishwasher.

        My husband said, “That’s where they are coming from.  I guess when the repairmen replaced the dishwasher they left some sort of hole.”

        I sarcastically announce, “What is it with these repairmen?  First the stove – they leave a gaping hole behind it. How many years ago was that?  NOW, the dishwasher.”

I pull the full bottom row of books out and stack them on the floor finding no damage to my leather books.  However, the nest is impressive.  The mice have made a nice soft nest of what . . . cat hair and dog hair and the broken shells of the hazelnuts.  I have seen enough.  I will deal with this in the morning.

I turn off the lights and follow my husband to the bedroom. I haven’t stopped ranting; I ask him, “It is a joke with them?  Do they purposely leave holes so that mice can come in?  Do they do it on purpose and plan on us having a mice infestation so that we call them back?”

Fast forward to this year.

        At night I have been putting the White Cyclamen potted plant down on the floor up against the sliding glass window so that it gets cool.

        Yesterday morning I notice some of the leaves have been chewed right down to the stems.

I surmise - we have Christmas mice again!