Furry Night Terrorist

Seriously grateful that I purchased a very heavy trash can made of one inch solid wood sides with a bag holder rim cover and very heavy lid. Why...well, let me tell you a story.

At 3am this morning for some unknown reason I woke up from what was quite a pleasant sleep.  Deciding my bed was no longer comfortable, I and went down stairs thinking I would continue my slumber on the recliner.  As I made it to the bottom of the staircase, I was horrified to hear the squeaking of a mouse caught in a sticky trap I had set last week. Knowing that I must deal with it before one of my dogs decided to investigate and get stuck too, I sighed deeply, grabbed a plastic grocery sack and headed over to take care of business.  It appeared to be very stuck so I put it and the trap in a plastic grocery sack, tied it shut and put it in the wood trash can, lid on, figuring I would deal with it when I got up again later.

So around 7ish when I woke again, I started my morning routine of warm up the coffee machine to in preparation of brewing my first cup of caffeinated bliss and letting the dogs out for their morning run. When I came back into the kitchen, one of the cats was inquisitively staring at the trash can so I knew my night-terrorist was still alive. In preparation of dealing with this little nightmare, I unlocked the deadbolt on the front door so I could quickly get the trash bag outside before the cat tried to 'help me'. Once the door was unlocked and I thought I was ready, I lifted the heavy wooden lid and to my surprise, there was that little (ok, not so little) mouse up on hind legs staring at me as if to say, "You seriously thought that would work?"

Needless to say I made a little-girl like squeal and slammed the lid back down, wondering what the hell I was going to do now. This squeal caused my dogs, who consistently protect me from every mailman, delivery driver, stray dog, loud truck, jumping squirrel, bouncing bunny, and flying leaf, to slam into the glass storm door with nervous intent to save momma.  This too, caused me to squeal as at this point, I had not yet had any coffee.  Nope…this was not going to happen until I at least had a few sips. Nope...not yet!

So after the brew was finally finished and I ingested in a little liquid courage, I lifted the lid of the trash can. I don't know if it would be there still staring or ready to pounce in an attempt to escape but luckily it was not.  I guess when I slammed the lid down, it scared the little terrorist back down into the depths of the trash bag lining the can. Back to the coffee...still not ready for this!

Now I had to figure out how to deal with this. How do I get this furry night terrorist out of my trashcan, out of my house, and not let it escape or worse yet, jump on me in the process. The can is solid wood with a heavy lid and is too heavy to pick up and just put outside without having to hug it and there was no way in hell I was getting my face that close to a mouse. I could put it on a little dolly-like cart but I would still have to get my face close.  Still does not sound like something I have had enough coffee for.  One more sip of coffee to help me think.

A couple more minutes and about half a cup later, I decided I had enough liquid courage to attack the little problem.  The dogs were staring through the door with ‘must protect momma’ looks.  The cat was waiting in anticipation of my failure where he would be able to play with the new toy in the can. Me, still not ready but knowing since there was no one in the house to deal with this, grabbed the drawstrings on either side of the bag, lifted the lid, pulled out the bag, and flung the whole mess out on the front porch, and slammed the front door so in case it jumped out as the bag flew it would not be able to run back in.  Yes, this was my fear…it would come back in and get me.  This entire dance of insanity taking less than 10 seconds but feeling like hours.  Now I’m exhausted and need more coffee!

The bag landed on the front porch with the open end facing the front door.  I stared at it through the window on the door half expecting to see the mouse run out.  Then it dawned on me.  Now I have let this little menace out into the world and I was captive in my house because there was no way I was going to be able to get out my front door with that bag sitting there, still open, with the fur-terrorist in it waiting to pounce.  I know what you are thinking…really that’s not going to happen but come on…my thoughts are still only at half cup level so yea, in my mind it could happen.  I open the door, grab the bag, tied it shut as quick as my hands will function and throw the entire mess off my porch.  Success!  I will now be able to leave my house.  I am not going to think about the fact the bag landed next to my driver’s side door of my car.  This is not my current problem. 

Coffee, here I come.