I was sitting on the couch, sewing a robe for my daughter. Katie was on the floor reading a book and Miles was sleeping. It was quiet. No peeps, just the gentle tug of thread pulling through fabric and pages turning. The kind of quiet I have learned to really relish since the little people invaded my house. A few gentle contemplative sighs later I hear a strange noise, scritchy-quiet and very close.

It was like scratching in straw, wood chips moving, a burrowing noise, and then a squeak. I noticed a strange lump on the back of the couch, under the fabric. I sat there stunned. It moved. I put my finger on it and it seemed to shrink just a bit. There was another squeak “please don’t punch me”. There was a heartbeat, fast.

If a mouse could have a heart attack, this would be it. Then it would be dead, IN MY COUCH. The idea of it was almost too much.

I sat there for at least five minutes before I could act. When the wee lump began to scuttle I decided that I would have to do something, that I could not pass this off on some one else. I considered bashing it with the big scissors I was holding but then it would still be IN MY COUCH. I opted to push it along, toward the back, where it came to a standstill at the seam. Then I left the lump to find a suitable container.

I cut a long slit in the couch (fortunately we hate our couch, it is an ugly hand-me-down that Jay’s Mom gave us, and she hated it too.) Once the cut was made I held up the container and worked the mouse into it, an involuntary scream rippling up from my throat when I heard it plop into the bowl, then little toe nails scratching around. I slapped on the lid and ran to the kitchen.

I could not find the key to open the back door and Katie was wide eyed, sure I had lost it. Wassat Mommy? Oh, nothing, just a mouse that was IN MY COUCH. I was just getting the door open, where my intent was to liberate it by flinging it out into the yard (the neighbor’s yard, of course.) But it somehow jumped out of the container and I screamed like I have never screamed, a sissy “Ah AHHH AHHHHHHHH, blood curdling low boiled piss pants trilling stand on one leg and double over at the waistline scream. Katie turned red emitting the same blood curdling low boiled piss pants trilling stand on one leg and double over at the waistline scream. Then she peed on the floor.

The furry little bastard scurried under the refrigerator. I think he is still there. Mocking me. Nyah nyah nyah.