Losing the Food Chain Lottery

Last Saturday wasn't a good day to be a mouse seeking refuge in the warmth of our house. Actually, no recent days have been good days to be mice seeking refuge in the warmth of our house, and every day it gets more perilous.

Because the mice - and we - have developed a pattern, and given that at least two of us in the story are humans, we've gone up a learning curve, demonstrating our species' superior survival ability. Here's how it works

• Mouse gets cold and enters garage
• Mouse is still cold, so enters the laundry room (through vents or whatever I don't understand about gaps between the laundry room and the garage)
• Mouse encounters Sid, who has been waiting for him
• Sid grabs mouse, helpfully alerting Jeanne and Jeff with the associated noise
• Sid runs - or more recently, strolls - across the hearth room with the mouse, taking it to his lair (our bathroom)
• Jeanne signals Jeff when Sid turns the corner into our bedroom. Jeff follows Sid and Jeanne follows Jeff
• Jeff retrieves coffee mug and piece of cardboard from the bathroom cabinet while Sid drops the mouse and stares at it
• Jeanne climbs up on the edge of the bathtub
• Jeff pursues - and in high percentage of cases traps the mouse under the cup
• Jeff carries mouse in cup with cardboard bottom to the deck and flings him off into the snow

This exciting new routine began when the weather turned frigid right before Christmas and it shows no signs of letting up. Much discussion about whether we should set traps, call an exterminator, etc. Jeff is of the opinion it's working pretty well right now. We just close the doors to the laundry room when we're not on duty to prevent the cat from "hunting" (lying on the floor waiting for the mouse to come to him). But you know that old question: if you see one mouse, how many more must there be? And I don't know where they go when he drops them and Jeff doesn't catch them. Or how many he catches and drops when we're not around. And there's sometimes a scritching noise behind the bed.

But I bear them no ill will. If they didn't run so fast I wouldn't even have to stand on the edge of the bathtub. So, I found myself feeling a little sorry for last Saturday's mouse. Just when he thought he was warm, Sid recruited him as a playmate. Then, just when he "escaped" Sid (who just drops them and never even uses his teeth), there is Jeff with his coffee mug. And now, out on the deck, where it is cold again. Then flying through the air and down about 20 feet into a snowbank. But then! Popping back up on top of the snow and running toward the tree! Not seeing the hawk that instantly spotted him and swooped down for his lunch. Damn.