Wednesday, September 27, 2023

About a mouse

Our house in Canada is on an acre lot.  We have a large backyard and the vegetation in the form of trees and bushes is not too well tended, given I travel a lot.  The grass is cut, the perennials come and go and generally front and back yards are somewhat unkempt because some patches do get overrun with weeds and stifle the growth of the perennials that I have lovingly planted over the years.  The tulips inevitably show up in surprising spots and in multiple colours, and the peonies are steadfast, as are the lilacs.  The tiger lily and lily of the valley have been faithful thus far but have taken over the flocks that I planted a few summers ago.  The hostas are sturdy and form a nice cover close to our septic tank at the back.  We have raccoons as any rural property worth its salt in Canada should.  They rummage through the garbage if it is left out overnight, creating a mess.  They also make scratchy noises on our roof, in competition with the large black squirrels.  It is all part of Canadian life just as much as the four seasons.  They remain vestiges of this beautiful land and make us aware that we humans are intruders.  I am not bothered by any of these sights and sounds of nature’s beauty, even though they annoy the daily rhythm of my life sometimes.  However, I had not bargained for the extreme reaction that my Taiwanese tenant had to this cadence.  I mistakenly rented the upstairs to them for a month.  They begged and seemed responsible and low maintenance.  I rationalized that it was nice to have people and movement in the house than to leave it empty for long periods of time, so I capitulated.  My downstairs is rented and my friend who co-hosts with me takes care of the renters’ needs when I am not in the country.  


Things appeared to be going well with both renters.  Suddenly one day she called me about my upstairs renter.  She got a call late one night asking her to go over and clean the garbage which the raccoon had toppled over to create a mess!  She patiently advised them about the ways of the raccoon and went over the next day to calm their jangled nerves.   A day later, all hell broke lose when they spotted a little field mouse in the house.  Their fear and outrage knew no bounds.  They asked that she go over immediately to catch it.  She told them that this happened sometimes when the weather turned cold, especially given all the vegetation and vast expanse of land around the house.  She asked them to set a mouse trap and instructed them on setting one.  They would not hear of it.  She got a call later that day, stating they had killed the mouse, but could she go over to clean the mess.  It was her turn to be outraged.  As the owner of the space, I felt responsible and helpless that she was having to deal with this nonsense.  When she refused to go over, they emailed me asking me to immediately engage a pest control company since they suspected there could be one more and that they were avoiding the kitchen and were not going to use the stove, oven or dishwasher till they were sure the mouse did not emanate from the kitchen!  I was amused that a little field mouse had the power to order their life, constrain their activities and confine them to certain parts of the house.    I told them that they had a week left in their stay and I would be there the following week to take care of it.  I assured them that the mouse did not want to be around them as much as they did not want it around and they should relax.  But alas, that mouse, though dead, has firmly lodged itself into their heads with no escape!     

 

 

 

 

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