I was inspired to share my story of Mouse after recently seeing mice potholders created by artist, Maria Wulf. I was even more inspired when she wrote about why she resisted making them at first and what happened after she decided to follow through and then put them up for sale on her website.

Maria had written that she wasn’t so sure others would be interested in a potholder in their kitchen with a mouse on it. She wrote, “I resisted the English linen towel  that Carolyn gave me with the mice on it up to this point because, really, who wants a mouse in the kitchen? They’re cute in stories and as cartoon characters,  but when they’re leaving poop in the fruit bowl it’s time to get the mousetraps out.”

When I first read the bit about putting a mousetrap out, I cringed, feeling bad for mice that get caught in those traps. But I have to admit, many moons ago, I too, did the same thing. I remember when John and I lived in an old farmhouse in the early years of our marriage. There were many nights we’d hear mice in the ceiling and even a time or two when they ran across the top of our bed…when we were in it! At the time, if I’m honest, it totally freaked me out.

Even though Maria was unsure those mice potholders would sell, she listed them for sale in her Etsy shop thinking they likely wouldn’t sell. When she returned from lunch a few hours later, they were all sold. She thought perhaps there was a glitch with the system and by accident, the potholders had been deleted – not sold. But after double-checking, she realized that indeed, people had bought them and quite quickly!

Then endearing stories about mice came in from some of her followers. My favorite was from a story sent by someone who purchased one of the potholders:

“Twenty years ago, I lived in a farrowing shed outside of Iowa City (the loveliest little nest).  A Buddhist Monk lived there before me, old enough to have spent time in prison after the 1959 uprising in Tibet.  He had rigged up a system for “catching” mice by tying bells around chicken bones, which he somehow suspended in a gallon-sized jar.  Mice rang the bells waking him up and he would carry the jar outside and set them free over and over and over again.”

I don’t know the original teller of this story, but it really touched my heart.

This story and the other ones about mice brought back a memory when we first moved to the house we now live in.  For the first few years, we had a challenge with mice getting in the house because we were surrounded by open fields until the land became more developed with more homes.

But we still had cats and they ‘helped out.’ Then when we had our dachshund, Frankie, she too, was a good mouser. Though she never did anything with them but alert us to them.

One cold evening there was a mouse in the kitchen. I believe it was the variety of a Kangaroo mouse as it had those rounded, big ears. Her jet black eyes with those ears just endeared me to her. I wasn’t afraid of her, but I also didn’t feel having her living in my kitchen was the best idea.

What to do?

I had an idea. I gathered the broom from the closet and also found a used Cool Whip bowl in the cabinet. I was armed with the tools that would be gentle, allow the sweet creature to survive, and keep poop from appearing in my dishes.

John was watching me and said, “What are you planning on doing?” I explained my plan. 

He just shook his head back and forth with a grin on his face. “It’s just going to come back in the house if you put it outside.” I knew he had another idea, but I didn’t like it.

I said, “I’ll take her to the field down the road.”

I forged forward even though he was still shaking his head. The mouse was near the garage door entrance now. So I slowly leaned forward with the plastic bowl in one hand and broom in another, ready to scoop her into the bowl.

But she had an escape plan. Before I knew it, she was running up the inside of my right pant leg! Not only did we have a mouse in the kitchen, but now Elvis had also come back from the other side, as I looked a bit like him as I shook my leg wildly just like he had often done on stage. Though there were no admiring and screaming fans for me. Just a husband who was laughing hysterically!

Though it felt like forever as I felt those tiny feet on my bare leg, she did eventually shake back out onto the floor. Now a bit dazed (both of us!), I was able to scoop her into the Cool Whip bowl with the help of John who was now on board with helping me.

I got in the car with the precious cargo contained in the Cool Whip bowl and resting on the passenger seat and drove to the field. Once there, I carefully and gently opened the lid of the container. Her big eyes were looking up at me.

I don’t recall exactly what I said, but I know I wished her well, and I had tears in my eyes because I truly hoped she would be okay.

After sharing this story with Maria she replied she thought I was heroic as she said she felt her impulse would have been to squish the mouse. She also mentioned how she loved that my husband had gotten into the spirit of it all.

This gave me pause and I thought about how the more I’ve opened to the wisdom of all animals over the years, respecting and honoring them even more, so too has he. And that just makes the mouse story for me come full circle in such a beautiful way.

xo,

Barbara