Hickory, Dickory, Dock

 There's a visitor at the Barker home.  I caught a glimpse of him as Dan and I were talking in the kitchen.  He scurried across the floor, under the door and right into the pantry. Dan got right to work preparing for our furry friend's demise.  I took my place standing atop a chair as to give a better angle for cheering him on.  

Dan scoured the kitchen for his weapon, producing a large butcher knife.  "Three Blind Mice" began playing in my head as I envisioned the massacre that could occur.  

"Umm no."   I said. 

"Then what am I supposed to use?" He asked.

"A golf club."

"What?" He shrieked.

"That's what they always use on TV." 

At that point I could detect my voice was muted for the remainder of the attack.  He picked up various tools from the drawer finally settling on a cheese grater.  Not what I would have picked and again I had the scene playing out with my poor grater and was not liking that outcome either.  

I thought about asking if there was a nice way we could catch our friend and let him safely go in field where he could live out the rest of his days frolicking with his friends, but I knew better.  

Dan emptied the pantry searching.  I knew how it would go and yet it still surprised me when a gray fur ball popped out at him.  The grater swung here and there but it was too late.  Mickey had already retreated under the stove.

He removed the drawer and started emptying cabinets angrily searching. I watched from my perch for a while but soon lost interest and went to bed.  

Barks set traps and we went to bed for what turned out to be a rough night with a sick baby.  He periodically sneaked in to check if he had captured his prey.  No luck. 

He called yesterday from work to check the status of his mission and I reported there was still no luck.  

We complained for a few minutes about how gross mice are, how we can't stand them and how this is just another "sign" it is time to move (everything seems to be a sign for moving- but more on that later.)

He asked that I put Daisy the Chihuahua's bowls on the counter when she wasn't eating. 

"You know he can just get up there, right? What's it matter?"

"What?" He exclaimed. 

"They can climb up walls, you know.  Nowhere is safe." 

"They can't climb walls like that, Nik" 

"Oh, really?  Then how did the 'mouse run up the clock'?" 

He paused for a moment.  

"The same way the cow jumped over the moon." 

I've done a lot of researching since, and I'm pretty relieved to know that while mice can climb things with some texture and they do have the ability to climb and jump short distances, they cannot, like the nursery rhyme suggests, climb walls like Spider-Man.  

Mickey is still on the loose, but I am happy to say I slept a little easier last night looking up at the ceiling and not being fearful I'd see him running up there.