Fangboner Farms

Mouse Tails Again

I've been doing pretty well adjusting to critters outside and the occasional inside ones. And I probably have a certain naivete that I somehow believe that since I've adapted, they have too - thus they respect my space and boundaries. Uh-huh. Last Saturday morning I was out in the Farm Market cleaning before we opened.  Too Shy, our big barn kitty who is not shy at all, followed me into the shop.  I walked him out saying he wasn't allowed to come in and then started moving things to vacuum. As I was vacuuming around the counter, something small and black was right next to the baseboard.  I hit it a couple times and was surprised that my powerful Dyson didn't do the trick.  So I turned it off and leaned down to see what it was. Yup, a dead mouse. I was brave. I was calm. I was so in control. I am woman, hear me dial. Roland had just left but Karen who works with us was in the house.  I called her cell, asked her if she wanted to make some hazard pay and to bring out some paper towels and a bag. Now Karen will be the first to admit that she hates spiders, crawly things and mice. But since she's been working on the Farm, she's gotten used to seeing all of the above, as well as snakes, all sorts of critters and just plain gross things.  And when she's in Farm work-mode, she's cool.  But take her off the Farm and she won't deal with them. So luckily Karen came to my rescue and used all the towels to pick him up.  I didn't look but she said he was "intact" (although I've been fixing barn kitties lately at the vet and I immediately thought "huh?").  I couldn't figure out how he just died right there out in the open. Then the great mystery and circle of life was explained.  Karen said someone - meaning barn kitty - had left two pretty well chomped-on mice on the walkway coming up to the shop door.  My valiant hunter Too Shy was still sitting out there, licking his chops and waiting to be thanked for his gifts. We went out, I told him what a good boy he was but that next time he doesn't have to bring a dead one along with him when he comes into the shop. At least I chased him out before he started chowing on that one. Ugh. So my innocence is gone.  I've never found any signs of mice in the barn. I'm sure the kitties on the other side keep the unwelcome visitors out.  Or maybe they just invite them in for dinner. . . . Needless to say, I look at all the kitties' mouths now before I pet them to make sure they're not bringing me a present. And for once was grateful my can-suck-up-the-couch Dyson failed me. Now that would have been gross. By the way, I did pay Karen some extra $$ that day for saving me!

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