He lives in the stove mostly. Just today Cale discovered he has been eating the tin foil he spread over the broiler tray to catch melting cheese. He's a relatively small mouse, with dark charcoal colored fur. Actually, he's sort of cute. And I don't have it in me to kill him.
I've never been a killer of things. Samoa has changed that a little. I am now a shameless cockroach smusher, centipede decapitator and Mortien sprayer. Those are bugs. I'm not ready for mammals yet.
Last night I went to the bathroom. I stumbled in half asleep, turned on the light, closed the door and took a seat. That is when I saw him. Without my glasses he was not much more than a darked colored blur scurrying from corner to corner, checking the baseboards and the door for escape. I realized quickly that there was no way out for him and decided to take advantage.
"Cale. The mouse. I have it trapped in the bathroom."
"Cale. Wake up. I want to cockroach the mouse. You know catch him in a cup or something and throw him outside."
"Cale. Wake up."
"Never mind, I'll do it myself."
The first thing I discovered as I stalked the mouse around the bathroom a Tupperware container in hand is those are speedy little buggers. Also, when he did run in my direction my first reaction was not to pounce on him with the container, but instead to jump back in fear and get my feet up off the floor. The bathroom wasn't the idea hunting grounds either. There is a space under the sink ideal for mouse hiding. In order to find him I would have to stick my head into the space to look around. I did this with great trepidation. Once I discovered he was also a jumper and a climber, I stopped sticking my head in there for fear of him falling from above into my hair. At one point he actually ran into an overturned container under the sink. I was so surprised by this stroke of luck that I didn't react quickly enough. Instead I thought to myself, this is perfect and decided how to take advantage of the situation while he ran back out.
In the end the mouse won. After about an hour in the bathroom, I found myself dozing off as I sat on the chair waiting for him to venture out from under the sink.
Today we watched him run from somewhere back in the house to under the fridge. Cale decided I would hockey puck him out the door with the broom. First we had to prop the door open and move the stove and gas tank out of the way. The plan was Cale would shake the fridge and when he ran out, I would whack him with the broom. Unfortunately, he ran into the stove while Cale was moving it and no amount of shaking or searching would reveal him. So, as far as I know, that is where he still is now.
As long as he doesn't visit the bedroom, I am ok with it for now.