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SALT LAKE CITY — Chewy is keeping us up at night. Yes, Chewy. Mr.Goodbar was the other name in the running. I told my wife not to give a name to the mouse, or the chihuahua, or whatever/whomever is munching stuff behind the headboard in our bedroom.
Now, because she (my wife) has made some type of connection with it (the rodent), she (still my wife) will freak like a University of Utah cheerleader at the corner of walk/do-not-walk when the trap snaps in the middle of the night.
I would think she'd be a little more freaked out about having to share space with it (the rodent) like I am. There is little enough space left in our bedroom for my Popsicle stick storage and Diet Coke refill cup collection.
A mouse in the house is my fault. By confessing my guilt I am not just being a benevolent husband taking responsibility for all that happens in my house. A mouse in the house is my fault because I like to keep the kitchen door open to the wild, and by wild I mean the neighbor's yard.
I dropped a dollop of my favorite peanut butter on each trap and placed them around the headboard. The peanut butter, at two in the morning, did nothing to distract Chewy from noisily eating our furniture.
Also, there is a little fault-sorta-thing I happen to have. I like to keep Lemonheads and lemon drops and lemon bars — anything lemon — on my dresser. In the bedroom. Where the mouse is.
The Popsicle sticks and the Diet Coke cups may have something to do with it as well. And a Cheerio or two from our grandchildren named after bug spray and a TV show. I pretty much live in the bedroom because it has the best air conditioning in the house, and the grandbabies agree.
That this mouse may be attracted to the Lemonheads I keep on my dresser —or the teriyaki beef jerky, or the midnight éclair that may leave crumbs on the carpeting — is not his fault!
And yet, he has to go.
So, I got into my son's deodorant box to get the mouse traps — stored in his box with all the other items that are only used once a year.
I dropped a dollop of my favorite peanut butter on each trap and placed them around the headboard. The peanut butter, at two in the morning, did nothing to distract Chewy from noisily eating our furniture.
Yes, honey, I did set the traps. Yes, honey, I did load them with the good stuff. Nothing cheap for Chewy. Go back to bed sweetie. No honey, it would not be easier to move.
The traps didn’t work. I had performed a once-over in the room to make sure there were no crumbs, that the lemon things were in a covered jar, that the pizza the grandbabies ordered while playing pinochle was properly disposed of.
The following day I took the bed apart. I sprayed my cologne on the places where Chewy had been gnawing (and I’m assuming it’s a he because I have never met a she that chewed that loudly). I used my favorite cologne because my wife once implied that nobody would ever be attracted to the scent except for a girl who chewed very loudly.
I sprayed my cologne on the places where Chewy had been gnawing (and I’m assuming it’s a he because I have never met a she that chewed that loudly). I used my favorite cologne because my wife once implied that nobody would ever be attracted to the scent except for a girl who chewed very loudly.
Frankly, this is not the kind of thing that should ever happen in a home, in the wild (still meaning our neighbors) and certainly not in our bedroom behind our headboard caused by a few errant Lemonheads for which I have already shouldered blame.
At this point I am going to tell you a story about a "very good friend" of mine” because, though the story ended up with all being well, I wouldn’t want to have to explain to anyone what happened, and by "anyone" I mean my lovely wife.
The next night, as told by this “very good friend" of mine, who happened to find himself in the same set of uncanny circumstances, a living, breathing, snake was caught in “his” mousetrap.
It was one of those snakes that move all squiggly and back and forth and is long and skinny. And it was a snake! It was caught in the mouse trap! Behind the bed which belonged to a "good friend" of mine!
No, honey, I am not going to use his name because, uh, I am suddenly and inexplicably concerned about privacy.
Had something like that happened to me, I would have been creeped out and would have had to sanitize that whole part of the house — move the craps table out of the bedroom with the air conditioning — and the grandbabies wouldn’t like that at all.
So yesterday I spent the morning cleaning and spraying and vacuuming. Everything went. I will gladly sacrifice convenience for not having critters. I will close the kitchen door that faces the wild and I will lay out bits of mouse poison to get rid of the mouse that attracted the snake which lived in the house in which Davison ate Lemonheads.
And that’s all I’m going to say. Davison Cheney writes the "Prodigal Dad" humor column weekly for KSL.com. See his other writings at davisoncheneymegadad.blogspot.com, & on Twitter @davisoncheney.
