Shady is what I’m calling my mouse. He’s back. I actually haven’t seen him, but I do see the droppings under the sink again, and, as I study them, a line from an Eminem song goes through my mind: “Guess who’s back, guess who’s back, guess who’s back, guess who’s back.” Answer: Shady the Mouse. There are enough droppings that I think Shady might be bringing along his trailer park girl in a search of some crumbs.
This afternoon I vacuumed the tell-tale turds. Jimmy walked into the kitchen, and I showed him the evidence. “I have a Plan B, and this week I’m going to implement it,” I promised.
“This means war!” he said rather vigorously.
“Oh, no,” I said. “This means counter-intelligence.”
“We’re going to outsmart mice?” He seemed willing to humor me.
“I am going to outsmart mice.” The last word was mine.
I do have a Plan B, and I have two new tools (nonviolent) provided by my parents. I also have been scouting the perimeter of my house, and I have an idea as to how Shady and his girl might be getting in.
I’ll report back.