Annnd ... the mouse has been found

All passive like. And I'm not just talking about the title of this post. Ha.

Anyway.

For those of you who DIDN'T hear my mouse-in-the-basement story from about two weeks ago, here you go:

Just setting the stage: Garrett's somewhere in Pennsylvania; Lucy (the cat) and me are hanging out in the living room.

From the couch, I saw movement coming from the top stair. When I looked over, I saw these GIGANTIC mouse ears and little eyes peeping out from the top stair. So, naturally, I yelled, "KITTY — LOOK — GET THE MOUSE!" and she took off downstairs after it. Since she is an excellent mouser, I assumed that would be the end of the story. She was scheduled to be spayed in the morning, and I was going to cut off her food supply around midnight. It was about 10 p.m. I figured: A mouse = a great last snack before going under the knife.

After giving her enough time to do her business (I've watched her eat them before, and it's disgusting) I went downstairs to assess the damage and clean up any blood stains. In our partially finished basement family room (drywalled, textured and baseboarded, but not painted or carpeted), Lucy is sitting next to the couch staring under it, where the mouse is apparently hiding. After putting shoes on, I lifted the couch up so she could find the mouse, but it ran into the totally unfinished portion of the basement. Lucy followed. I went into to watch the show.

TWO HOURS LATER, I scooped up a very frustrated and unsuccessful Lucy, shut the door to the totally unfinished portion and stuffed a blanket under the door. The mouse had climbed the framing and disappeared somewhere in the ceiling of the basement. I figured it'd come out soon enough, but it was midnight and I was tired. And Lucy was done eating for the night.

Then I had a dream there was a mouse climbing all over my face. That was pretty awful.

Fast forward to last night.

There had been no sign of said mouse and now-sterile-but-recovered Lucy hadn't found it anywhere. I went downstairs to change laundry and water the plants down there. As I was watering — with the watering container I keep there — I smelled something awful. Thinking the kitty had possibly decided to go to the bathroom on the watering can, I took it upstairs to wash it off in the kitchen sink. The smell just got worse. I figured: Might as well rinse out the whole thing. And, as I dumped out the water, I heard a plop.

Most disgusting plop of my life.

Apparently, Mr. big-ears had decided to spend its last moments trying to get water from inside the container.

After realizing there was a decomposing mouse halfway down my disposal (and because it always takes me a few more seconds than the average person to realize this stuff, I was standing there for a good several seconds), I slowly backed away and tried not to dry heave while calling to Garrett, who was — thankfully — in the living room and not Pennsylvania.

He took care of it.

And that is the story of the mouse that got into my house.