When Mom first moved down to North Carolina with Dad in 1966, after they were married here in Canada at the Church just up the road from the Homestead, and she’s down there I don’t know how long before Dad’s family is getting her to say there is a moose in my whouse get him oot, as none of them had ever heard a Canadian speak in real life.
Or, perhaps it be more like there is a mouse in my dinky trailer we don’t have room for it.
That ol’Canadian accent though was dang funny to those North Carolinians (which if you heard my Dad say dawg you’d find hilarious).
The other hit was when they got her to say oot and aboot in a boot, loosely translated as; “out and about in a boat“.
So back to mice. Lounging there in my big wicker chair this morning, drinking coffee, going through the old budget in my head, and adding things up and think I’m in good shape. As I’m patting myself on the back, out of the corner of my eye I see something had moved. I’m at this point thinking one of those nasty Centipede things I sometimes get, you know the ones with the billions of legs that sometimes are so large you can hear their feet. I don’t care for insects who’s feet you can hear.
But no, no no, better. It is this mouse with white round ears sticking off the sides of his head like satellite dishes, and he looks at me and I look at him, and then he pulls out his ‘tude and gives me this “yeah, and what!?“.
Couple years ago I put out Irish Spring soap in the corners of the cabinets as that stuff is vile, and I read was a deterrent – certainly is for me. However, maybe its worn off.
I believe I may have to go find a humane alternative artillery of some sort.
Once I took up his challenge (came to my fricken senses from his nonchalant saunter across my kitchen floor) I went bang bang on the vinyl floor with my foot and said ‘go away’! Which should give him something to think about.
Last I saw him he was high tailing it across the floor under my cupboards and disappeared through this infinitesimally small crack in the baseboards.
I can’t imagine what on earth he was up to, and where he came from. However, em, on second thought, I imagine he came to check out the delicious teriyaki bits from my wok, maybe likes sugary sesame seeds, and I caught him. Well, kind of caught him. He caught me, really.
Whatever, he’s not welcome. Cute as a fart with those satellite dishes on the sides of his head, but no room at the inn.
But yeah, isn’t that the case? Just when you think all your ducks are maybe in the same pond, and some fox sneaks out from the bushes and has himself a taste, just to keep ya humble.