Souris

Am on floor doing crossword puzzle and Dave streched out on couch watching the golden globes and knitting. Dave a tense knitter, and given to muttering curses. Hear wooden knitting needles hit ground. Dave standing on top of couch, brandishing cushion. Join Dave on couch, heart beating. See problem: small, greasy, gray mouse runnning from kitchen to radiator. Jenny unconscious throughout. Do not care to be in apartment alone with mouse--Jenny clearly not a help--so volunteer to run to deli to get traps. Am told at first bodega that They are Out of Traps. At second, am told that they Only have the Glue. Am scared of the glue (very very bad morning several years ago when stepped into trap with stockinged foot--am still mourning loss of that sock, which had unusal characteristic of being both woolen and not itchy). As there is no other alternative but the clerk's quaint story about how as a kid in Iraq he and his cousins used to hold mice by their tails and drown them in coffee cans, purchase the Glue. Not more than five minutes after putting trap down under radiator coils, high pitched shrieks begin. At this, Dave, again jumps up on top of couch. Tell him sternly that this is nothing to be afraid of. Retrieve broom from closet. Use end of broomstick to scoot trap out from under radiator. The mouse and I both scream. Am shattered. Dave takes over rest of operation. From garbage room down the hall, hear sinister clanging noises. Feel strongly that the Buddha would not approve and accordingly, gave dream about large rat clamping down on big toe. Wake to sounds of what can only assume are ghost mouse shrieks. Get up.