It's Raining Mice . . . or alternatively, "Charlie Earns his Keep"

Our friend Ali recently stayed with us for a three week stretch.  She's a super lovable, friendly, outgoing gal, but she's also a little neurotic.  And I call her "neurotic" in the most lovable and friendly way possible. What happened during her last morning with us surely has done nothing to calm her down.

At 5 in the morning, on her last day with us, I heard this very bizarre gibberish explode from the silence.  It didn't sound like English or Spanish and was uttered in something between a breathless squeal and muffled scream.  It was definitely coming from Ali.

I got out of bed and shuffled in the dark towards her room.  Ali met me in the doorway.  "Oh my God, Kate!  I'm sorry I woke you up.  I didn't want to scream because I didn't want to wake you up, but I was trying to be loud enough to wake you up without really screaming, because I don't know what to do!!!!!!"

"Ali, what are you talking about?"

"I was sleeping and all the sudden I felt something heavy go 'thump' on my chest.  I felt something LAND on my chest.  I sat bolt upright in bed and turned around just in time to see a mouse on my pillow.  Oh my God, this is sooooooo gross!  Kate, I think the mouse is still in there!  I closed the door.  What do I do?"

Now, I have to say that at this moment I was torn between feeling really, really terrible for Ali, because I would be just as mortified if a mouse fell from the ceiling and landed on my chest while I was sleeping.  And my revulsion would only intensify if I discovered it traipsing over my pillow, speckling it with an invisible trail of rodent urine.  And I remembered the feeling when we found the remains of the mouse that exploded, shat, and peed under the pillows in our bed.  BUT, at the same time, I was overcome by this incredible urge to laugh, because Ali's response was just so incredibly "Ali-like", which is to say, hilarious, animated, and somewhat incoherent.

"Kate, what do I do?  Oh my God, I'm so sorry for waking you up, but I don't know what to do.  Should I go back in there?  Do you think it's in there?  Do I need to kill it?  I think it's under the bed.  Oh God!  What should I do????"

Now, the truth is that there are very few people in Monteverde less equipped to help someone with a mouse situation than I am.  I hate mice.  I see mouse droppings and waves of nausea ripple through my body.  I see a mouse and my gag reflex kicks in and I have to shut my eyes to avoid vomiting right there.  There was no way in hell I was getting anywhere near her room.  So I suggested to her that she go back to sleep - in her bed - because surely the mouse was gone by now. 

I'm not sure why I told her this, because I would never, not in a million years, consider getting back in a bed that had just been occupied by a mouse.  Sheets would need to be cleaned, the bedframe disinfected, and the mouse and all evidence of it completely obliterated before I even thought about sitting on the bed.  I guess I didn't believe that Ali would take my advice.  I figured she'd just sleep on the couch, which is what I probably should have recommended she do in the first place. But Ali didn't sleep on the couch.  She listened to me!  She went back in the bedroom.  I don't know if she got into bed again, but she went back in her room, which was way beyond what I would have done.

Slightly shocked, I crawled back in our bed, after checking the ceiling for mice.  Ernesto grumpily asked, "What the hell was Ali screaming about?" 

"A mouse was in her bed."

"In her bed?"

"Yeah, it fell on her from the ceiling, landed on her chest, and then dashed over her pillow before disappearing."

Ernesto let out a laugh, and like that, fell back to sleep. But I didn't.  I felt guilty.  And couldn't believe Ali went back in there.  It's like escaping from a shark tank and then deciding to take another dip.  Bad idea.  I was just about to get up to tell Ali to sleep on the couch when I heard her again,

"Oh my God! It's still here!!"

I walked out of our bedroom just in time to see her doing a dance of disgust, prancing from tip-toe to tip-toe while wiping invisible mice off of her body and shaking like a possessed shaman. 


"Kate!  It's under the mattress.  I saw it.  It's perched on one of the bed boards towards the back of the bed.  Oh God!"

"Ali, maybe you should sleep on the couch. Don't worry about the mouse. Ernesto can take care of it."

So Ali dragged her blankets to the couch and started to make herself a bed, while I got ready to go to the library to work on the never-ending dissertation draft.  Just as Ali would doze off, a dog would prance by and she would bolt out of bed, convinced she'd heard the pitter-patter of mouse pads.  I doubt she slept more.

I left Ali, Ernesto, the dogs, and the mouse and headed to the library. By the time I got home, I learned that Charlie, for once, had earned his keep.

When Ernesto finally woke up, ate breakfast, and had some coffee, he went to investigate the mouse situation.  The mouse, it turns out, was still in the bedroom.  We didn't have any mouse traps, so Ernesto tried to get Kaia to attack it.  He got her riled up, along with Charlie, who is always riled up, and sent them into the tiny room.  Kaia wanted nothing to do with the mouse or Charlie.  Charlie on the other hand, went into a hunting craze, sniffing every crevice of the room.  Within 30 seconds he had the mouse in his mouth and was dashing out the door with his prize.  Later, Ernesto found the mouse, disembowel, in our driveway.

Ali was a good sport about the whole fiasco

It could have been worse.  The mouse could have fallen on her during her first night with us.  That really would have been worse.

The experience has caused me to add one more line to my list of precautionary household procedures:

Inspect shoes and boots for spiders and scorpions?  Check.
Shake and turn out clothes to check for spiders and scorpions?  Check.
Pull down all layers of blankets and sheets to look for critters?  Check.
Remove all crumbs and food scraps from the kitchen every night?  Check.
Examine countertops for mouse poop every morning?  Check.
Inspect closet cubbies at least once every few days for mouse poop and scorpions?  Check.
Make loud noises and turn on closet lot before walking into closet, so mice can hide before I see them?  Check.
Tramp down forest trail at dusk making thunderous noise to scare away puma?  Check.
Examine ceiling every night for falling mice?  Check.