There's a mouse in my Looney Bin!

   Do you ever wonder if you are crazy ... just bonkers ... and everyone has known it for eons? Do you ever experience something that, once it's over, forces you to see yourself from OUTSIDE of yourself in a way that frightens you to be yourself? 
   I am known in certain circles as someone who hears a boogey man outside of the house. There has been occasion when I have been dead certain that someone was in our attic, moving around up there, just waiting to jump through the crawl space and pounce on us like a jungle cat - tear us to smithereens - and then make off with all of our antiques ... you know, the VHS tapes, our typewriter, the touch tone phone with the big numbers.
   Very recently, I was awakened out of a not so deep sleep to realize that just such an intruder was amongst us. I heard what could have very well been the sound of someone tapping away at a door lock - lightly so as not to be discovered. The volume and frequency of the noise grew simultaneously, like the swelling of that scary music in all horror films. I, wide-eyed and fully awake, looked to my immediate right for support. There he was, the bravest knight in all of Chatham (County, that is). I knew that he would save the day! Or, at least the middle of the night.
   Soon, there was a symphony of various sounds, all meshed together. The knight's snoring was well-representative of the brass section, with long, trumpety type notes bathed in head cold congestion.
   No help there. I would have to brave this habitual felon all by myself. I braced myself for confrontation. I tiptoed with the grace of a ballerina down the hall. My family has called me Grace for years. They recognize my ability to get up from a seated position and sail across a room, breaking furniture, toes ...... Grace. 
   I quickly checked on our young Looney Bin resident. He was fast asleep, dreaming of Spiderman escapades and a lifetime supply of chocolate. I returned to the kitchen area of the house. As I approached a possible crime scene, the noise stopped. That assured me that not only was someone or something in our house, but this intruder knew that I was there as well. All quiet on the Looney front.
   Blip, blip! Bup bup bup! I heard it plain as day. The frequency increased - the brass section in the bedroom, now accompanied by the wind section, louder. The sounds were too much. I bravely turned on the kitchen light and presented myself. No shadow at the back door, thank goodness. Not an intruder in sight. But the noise ... that noise. Then I realized that there was, in fact, an intruder: A RODENT! My neighbor had just told me that she woke up one night to find a mouse sprinting across her bed. I had been on red alert ever since. Visions of mice crawling on little looney as he slept raced through my mind. Now, I was faced with a real-life mouse scenario, and would have to capture this pest and get rid of it by myself.
   I grabbed a weapon. Isn't that what they always do in those cheesy horror movies? No butcher knife here. I went for the wooden spoon. It had served me well in the kitchen for years. Together, we had created masterpieces. Together again, we would prevail!
   My impressive powers of deduction led me to conclude that the noise was contained in the kitchen sink. This would be tricky. If there was a mouse wedged in the drain pipe, that would require a plumber. Still, I had to investigate and at least try to remove this red-eyed, weasley pest. I was reminded of Lady and the Tramp, where a nasty rat got into the nursery when Jim Dear and Darling were away on a trip. Tramp saved the day by getting into a rough and tumble with the rabid varmant and chasing it away, all the while protecting the defenseless baby. This was a lightbulb moment for me!
   One of our Looney Bin residents is an 11 year-old cat. I have seen her pounce on those cat nip mice like there is no tomorrow. Where was she? I would enlist her services right away.
   I have defended her for years to the looney banker in the house, who has long teased me about the fact that she doesn't pull her weight, doesn't contribute to the household. She is security. She's perfect pest control. Once, just as I was stating that she provides free pest control, a roach flew from one side of the room to the other. I had made my argument well, providing the amount annually that we were saving by having such a fierce pest control cat in our house. Just as the roach glided over her head, she bolted ... ran ... darted out of the room like a gray cannon.
   On this night, it was no different. She heard the noise, but resumed her sprawled position on the bed. I went and retrieved her, hoping that some sort of feline hunting instinct would kick in. I put her on the counter, next to the sink. She sniffed the sink area a few times. I was so proud. I would have new examples of how she had earned her keep. But as soon as the bip bip bup bup noise resumed, she was gone.
   It was me and me alone. I would rescue the rodent from the drain pipe and release him. I would be a hero. I would be in the ranks with our other neighbor, who cuts the grass at her house. Normally I balk about how bad she makes the rest of us girls look. But now? We would be on even playing ground. This really was man's work, but I would do it and it would be the talk of the street!
   I grabbed the wooden spoon and also collected some tongs. In case you didn't know it, tongs are a universal tool. Tongs can remove items toilets - items placed there by toddlers. Tongs can be used to reach otherwise out of reach items - items thrown up high by toddlers. Tongs come in handy when things need to be rescued from under the refrigerator - things put under there by toddlers. Tongs! Tongs! Tongs!
   A mouse had dared to come into my house, where a looney toddler slept. What was this mouse looking for? Not cheese. Everyone says that. Mice take much more valuable things when they break in. If you don't believe me, just pop in Cinderella or Ratatouille. 
   I heard mumbling from the bedroom. My protector, the head of the household. was having a meeting with someone about the prime rate. That's wonderful. A deadly, rabinous creature is looming and he's back there saving the financial industry in his dreams.
   I looked under the sink, wooden spoon in hand. I tapped the drain several times. The noise stopped. Maybe the noise I was making had scared him away? Maybe the banging scared him so bad that he suffered a fatal heart attack in the pipe and was now deceased? That would be great, because my son would insist on having a funeral for him. We would get all dressed up and sing Silent Night, just as we had done for the spider that died in our house. That spider was smashed to smithereens with a size 10 Spiderman tennis shoe. Didn't stand a chance.
  If the mouse did perish, there would soon be a foul stinch in the area. They die fast. They smell faster. I would have to plug my nose with cotton balls due to the foul stinch that would ensue. When your family calls you Nostrildamus, predictor of scents both strange and familiar, you take the necessary precautions.
   I stood up. I had not turned on the water yet. I would flush him out. I turned on the sink and ran the hottest water I could run. I took a moment to peruse the fridge for a snack. I needed energy. Perhaps a slice of cheese? I decided that drowning a mouse would be cruel. I turned the water off. Just as I turned around, the bip bip, bup bup noise resumed. But this time, I noticed a visual component. Water was collecting in the little slits of the drain. Little bubbles. Bip bubbles. Bup bubbles. How could the mouse have orchestrated this?
   As I took a step backward, cashed in a little bit of the logic that chics are allowed (you know we are the feelings types, right?), I realized that I had walked the looney plank and had jumped right into crazy! What kind of fool would travel down a road filled with malicious rodent predators intent on robbing us blind, sucking the breath from out toddler (or is that still rumored to be a cat thing), and leaving unscathed?
   I returned the wooden spoon and tongs to their resting places. They were relieved. I went and checked on little Looney. All fine there. I made my way to the bedroom. Interest rates, cd's, lock boxes - another meeting of the minds going on.  I climbed back into bed next to the protector, next to the cat, who was so much in a trance that she didn't budge when I relocated her so that I could sleep in a straight position, and made a solemn vow never to mention any of it to anyone. Daybreak would be upon us all soon, and it would be time to get up and get the troops moving. Just as I began to drift away, Looney banker turned over and asked me if I caught the mouse. He added that next time, I should let him brave any intruder in the house. 
   Chivalry, even in the Looney Bin, is not dead. And neither is that mouse!