This morning I thought I saw a little dark brown mouse run behind my couch, but I’m not sure – it could have just been a falling extension cord. Nevertheless, I always forget how much mice freak me out until I think I’ve seen a residential one. It’s all Dr. Lyle-Ippolito’s fault… she had me read “Virus Hunter” in college and ever since I’ve been scared to death of catching Hantavirus. But I never caught it from my first two mice encounters, so maybe I’m good.
The first mouse encounter was when I still worked at the living history farm in Bozeman and I went to raise the shades in the upstairs of the house one morning. As I reached for the shade ring, a grey mouse who was sunning himself on the windowsill scampered away. I jumped.
The second mouse encounter was when I house-sat for some friends in the mountains. I was sleeping in their daughter’s basement room when I woke up one night to a scratching, teeny foot-step sounding noise on my pillow. I jumped up, turned on the light, and it seems a mouse was just preparing to make a nest in my hair. Ugh – that one still makes me shudder.
So, Hantavirus or not, let’s hope there’s no mouse in Traymore #209. If there is, I may have to invite over Crissy Pissy and Black Angel from across the hall.
P.S. that girl in the picture isn’t me (in case you thought it was) – I dont’ know she is, actually, I got these pictures from someone at work.