Village Squire, 1979-04, Page 24Continued from page 6
Showering, teeth cleaning and getting into slacks didn't help.
Then I saw the black mouse pellets.
Easter or not, broom and dustpan in hand I swept it up and
went searching the house for similar indignities. Reaching the
fireplace I stood thinking an Easter fire would make the house a
little more cheerful, but the damper didn't work. Roy had been
going to fix it. Suddenly I knew where the mousetrap was. Going
down the basement. and opening Roy's tool box, reaching down
in the far corner, I pulled up the wooden contraption.
Upstairs again, where would I place it? The far corner of the
living room seemed to have been a favorite spot judging by his
traces.
First I would have to bait the trap. Pushing a wedge of cheese
on to the metal flange, pulling back the square spring and
bringing the holding rod across it, then slipping the end into the
metal loop, the trap was ready. Holding it gingerly I walked into
the living room. I was surprised to see the little mouse sitting in
the centre of the rug, polishing his whiskers. I don't know how it
happened. There was a loud bang. The cheese catapulted across
the rug. My thumb was firmly held under the spring. In the place
where the metal loop had been there were just two small holes.
While releasing my thumb 1 saw the mouse was chewing as
fast as a buzz saw on the chunk of cheese. I sat down, watching
him. He was an odd mouse, not like the grey -brown field mire of
the wheat stubble days of my childhood. He was probably a
free -loading, soft -living city mouse.
When I took a step closer to him, he ran and hid. I got down on
my hands and knees and searched for the metal loop but there
were a million crannies for it to hide in the shag rug. Mousetrap
in hand I returned to the basement and peered into an emptied
endless jars of nuts and bolts, nails, washers and things I have
no idea what they were. There was nothing I could use for a tiny
metal loop to repair the trap. It was nice lingering over the odds
and ends of Roy's workshop -bringing back the warmth and
closeness.
It was nearly noon when I returned upstairs. With a sandwich.
a glass of milk and an apple, I went into the living room. I felt,
then saw two beady little eyes peering at me from around the leg
of the coffee table. His long whiskered nose was in the air
sniffing. The aroma of the apple was tantalizing him. I walked
slowly to the kitchen, picked up the newspaper and put it on the
rug, placing a piece of apple on it. He was chewing the apple by
the time I sat down. He loved the paper and began scratching it
to shreds. He ran for his life when I tossed him the apple core but
soon returned to demolish it. He made himself a paper nest.
During the afternoon I sat reading, knitting and tossing him
lettuce, carrot and apple. He emerged from his nest and chewed
heartily.
He was so interesting to watch it was late afternoon before 1
made my coffee. I peered into the paper nes. ani he was curled
up, sleeping. Gently I laid a glass jar down and eased him and
the nest into it. I was tying nylon net on top, when a quick
impatient rap came on the door.
It was 6 -year old Jamie from next door. "Have you seen
Mervin? I got him for Easter instead of a rabbit," he sniffed.
"He's been gone all day."
Having raised a son I instinctively knew. "He's a pet mouse.'
I said.
"Uh-huh. I could have had a white one but I liked him best.'
he said; then yelped, "You found him!"
"I caught him..." I said.
"Oh..." It rose to a wail. "You trapped him. You killed him.'
"No..No" 1 was almost unnerved, remembering. "He's fine.
1'11 get him."
Jamie hugged the jar to him as he raced towards his home:
and 1 thought of the little -boy -growing -up years at this house
when the rabbit who called had been•Peter Cottontail. But that
time was gone. This year the caller was a mouse named Mervin.
He took the place of the mythical rabbit who is hopping down the
flower -filled, brier -patched lane of yesterday.
I'd expected this Easter day to be long and lonely. Thanks to
Mervin. the friendly little mouse. it hadn't been.
22 Village Squire
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