By DORIS (Russell) ANDERSON – Grenfell, Sask.
Farm buildings were a prime habitat for small, unwelcome creatures of the wild. Cats did noble duty in controlling the mouse population and even Micky, our dog, was a great mouser.
At one time we had a dual-purpose cat by the name of Fritz who lived both outside and in the house according to his whims.
We don’t know how adept he was as a mouse catcher, however, one time we observed traces of a mouse who was probably planning to stake a claim on our house.
One day a mouse was seen skittering along the waxed linoleum floor in the living room, so the battle cry was sounded. The three kids and I prepared for conflict.
A towel was wedged under the door into the kitchen, the heat register was covered and storm front doors were shut. Someone was stationed as guard in the archway leading into the hallway.
For artillery, one had a broom, another had a mop, and in his innocence, our four-year-old son was armed with a flyswatter. The hunt was on! After several sightings and as many misses, we thought we had it cornered.
We were zooming in for the kill when to our stunned disbelief the mouse dove for the wall cold air register and in an instant had squeezed through the narrow vents and disappeared.
We thought of its demise – a probable starvation death within the confines of the pipe and leading nowhere but into the furnace.
It apparently was a lone predator as there were no further evidences of any next of kin!