Dropping

I don't have a lot of choice. I can move to a new house. I can pay for a flight to bring one of my boys here. I can spend my entire retirement fund to stay in a luxurious hotel with a swimming pool and lounges on the beach. Alright, the most realistic option is to pay for one of my boys to come here. Why? Will look at what I am finding around my house! I am sure this is a mouse dropping!

Frightening as it is, I have dealt with this in the least girly way possible, largely because the mouse has never come out in the open and so I’ve never seen it! I've seen these droppings for awhile now, but have lived in denial.

I've convinced myself it is not real and if I don't talk about it, it is not true. Another story I tell myself is that these are old droppings and the mouse has long left the premises. I found one dropping in a bedroom drawer. Since then I rattle drawers, cupboards and closets before opening them in order to give the vermin fair warning to get out of sight and let me remain in my happy place.

I have a fear of these four-legged low-to-the-ground, silent and sneaky things. I remember my mother standing on the dining room table screaming one afternoon; a frightening vision leaving this once impressionable mind indelibly stained with terror. Yes, mom too was deathly afraid of these creatures.

Years ago and early one morning I was sitting on the sofa, drinking my first cup of coffee. It was Sunday Morning. I was reading the paper and listening to news on the television. This particular morning was different and the event is crystal clear in my mind. Within my periphery, I saw something move. I turned my head and met its gnarly eyes. I was sure this creature was going to attack me.

I knew what I had to do. I immediately looked for Putter, my beloved black kitty-cat and fierce hunter who slept with one eye opened and loved nothing more than living for his purpose. He loved slinging mice high into the air like little toy things. After playing with it until all signs of life were a distant memory, Putter would then bite its head off, decapitating it on the spot.

Although Putter has gone to the big kitty litter box in the sky and is no longer available to save his best friend, the story lingers. That morning I picked Putter up and pointed his face in the mouse’s direction. Putter yawned and jumped back on the sofa quickly regaining his lazy comfort.

I ran into Kevin's room and woke him. Now one thing you must understand about Kevin is that no one would describe him as “friendly” in the morning and especially not friendly in the wee hours of a Sunday morning. However, after exchanging words, he begrudgingly got out of bed, snarling words that would make any mother run for cover. I ran from the house, not knowing how he would capture the intruder. Minutes later he appeared on the doorstep with only his boxer shorts on. The mouse was firmly in the clutch of his hand and its little tail wrapped around his arm. Kevin shouted, "What do you want me to do with it?"

I have several more stories similar to this one, but I will spare you the details as I’m sure you understand the depth of the predicament that was in front of me. So, lets get back to the point of this story.

Given the situation I was in, I reacted in the only logical way I could think. I left an email for my boys giving them specific instructions about coming to the island to capture this dangerous and ugly creature and save me from the horrible fate that I was sure to face.

Then I confided in Elvinette telling her what I had done. She looked at me and said, "Karen, those are Gecko droppings". Disaster averted and my happy place resumed.