"Ewww" and "Ewww: The Sequel"

"Ewww"
On Saturday, I noticed that my car smelled kind of fishy. And I don't mean fishy as in "suspicious," I mean "seafood-y." I figured it was perhaps an errant napkin from our jaunt to Woodman's on Saturday or just our briney beach bodies in need of showers. The next day, however, it seemed obvious that a whale had died in my car—and not recently, either. We looked all over, even under the seats, but couldn't find anything. Then we unloaded the back, and Andy found a pail full of Julie's seashells. Oh, and broken crab claws. Yep, apparently one or more of them still had a little raw crab meat inside 'em, now two days without life-blood or refrigeration. It's hard to describe what a huge stench came from such a tiny little critter-part, but man! As soon as we removed the offending pail from the car, it was sweet again. Well, not sweet but, you know, old-Honda-smelling.

"Ewww: The Sequel"
Yesterday I was in the kitchen getting dinner ready when I heard a noise. I figured it came from out the window. Then I heard it again. Nope, not outside. Pete came in the kitchen and heard it too. It seemed to be coming from the pantry or dining room or sun porch area, and it was a muffled clattering sound. Intermittent, too—many minutes would go by in between clatters. I made sure all cats and kids were accounted for—check. I stood at the French doors of the sunporch and peeked in, but could see nothing amiss. (Yes, I was expecting a bat, and the beginning of my long stay at McLean's.) I went back to the kitchen, heard the clatter again, identified it as clearly coming from the pantry—specifically the broom/wine closet—and took the kids and the phone outside. I called Andy at the gym and asked him to come home to investigate. He did, and it was as I feared: The mousetrap that has been gathering cobwebs for a year or so in our closet had finally partially trapped a mouse. It was not dead, and it was flapping around with the trap stuck to it, trying to escape. (Now you know why I would not could not open that door.) Andy didn't quite know what to do with it either. Pete suggested throwing a knife at it, but instead Andy scooped it into a shoebox and threw it in the trashcan outside. Ugh Ugh Ugh.

Comments

[semmens]

One lovely July day a few years ago I went grocery shopping and bought lots of sale meat, one of which was a 5 lb pack of hamburger. I was sure the kids had brought in all the groceries, but it wasn't until a couple of days later that I realized that the hamburger had somehow slid out of a bag under my back seat. My sympathies.

[Liz Price]

Shudder! It's enough to send anyone to McLeans. We're still talking about the bat story here.

[Rachel]

Ugh Ugh Ugh ...is right! That would have freaked me out completely. The "For Sale" sign would have been on my front lawn in no time at all. :)

[Sharon]

Ok, a bat and a mouse in the same month. You have paid your dues!

[Dana]

I can sympathize with you. We came home a few years ago to TWO rodents stuck on the sticky paper - still moving! SO gross and I had to go to my very strong young neighbor to move it. NO one in my house would touch the paper including me!

You have had a month that is for sure!

[Jonathan]

We had exactly the same thing happen to us a few years ago - a mouse stuck in a trap! And, like you, I had *no* idea what to do with it. I forget he final result, but it was something like what you Andy did - scoop it up somehow and trash it.

[Di]

We had to trade in our old Ford Explorer when we traced the progressively worsening smell to an unzipped ziploc bag of trail mix from our 12 hour car trip when we moved from Florida to North Carolina TWELVE MONTHS BEFORE!!!

[Steve]

A mouse? I'd kiss a mouse after our second RAT invasion. Rats the size of shoe boxes with fire-hose tails and bladder control problems.

The final solution was thanks to nature herself: a giant rat snake moved into our crawl space. I'd kiss the snake, too.