Lots of Laughs

A mouse met its match.

Years ago we lived in a beautiful parsonage that sat on a hill above the neighboring catfish farms. It was a lovely house, but it was not quite as tight as we might have hoped.

Neighbors would often ask if we knew that when the house was built, a rattlesnake had found its way in. And then, several years later, we came home to find a snakeskin at the front door— but we never found its owner.

One winter it seemed all the local mice had chosen our home to move their families into. We do try to make everyone feel comfortable when they come to visit, but really—a herd of mice was too much.

I was on the phone with my brother-in-law one day soon after we became aware of the invasion, and as I leaned against the kitchen counter, I noticed a mouse just strutting his way across my kitchen floor—taking his time and in seemingly no hurry at all.

I told my brother-in-law I needed to go—I had to shoot a mouse in the house. “Don’t hurt the kids!” I could hear him saying as I hung up the phone.

I grabbed my son’s BB gun.

It had an attached scope, which I peered through to slowly pinpoint Mr. Mouse under the table. I pulled the trigger, and down went the mouse! By my kids’ reaction, you would have thought I had saved them from a charging tiger.

Not long after, my mom called, and I told her of the excitement in the kitchen. Mom is a demure woman, and she suggested I not tell anyone, lest I bring attention to myself. Sure, Mom, I thought.

I just shot a mouse in the house and you don’t want me to tell anyone? No way. This should become a family legend.