Beech Tree News Network

Occasionally, I’ll look at my husband, Garey, and say, “Don’t you dare die before I do!”  I usually make such statements when my car won’t start, and I have to call him for a battery jump or if I have to get something off of the roof or out of a tree.  Last week it was a mouse—not on the roof or in a tree—just a mouse on the living room rug.

If it’s a dead mouse in a trap, I’ll jump a bit when I first come across it, but I’m not really alarmed.  I’ll just throw it out and reset the trap.  The mouse on the living room rug was not dead.  Yes, it was at death’s door, probably because my cat Figaro had wallered it around until he got bored with it, not quite finishing the job, but it was not completely dead; which means it qualified for a scream and a yell for Garey.

               “There’s a mouse on the living room rug!” I yelled.

               “Is it dead?” Garey asked from his cozy position under the covers.

               “Of course, it’s not dead,” I said.  “Didn’t you hear me scream?”

               “Well, kill it,” Garey said, without even rolling over.

               “You’ve lived with me for nearly forty-two years,” I said, “How many times have you seen me kill a mouse?  Never, that’s how many times,” I answered myself.  “And this mouse is huge!” I added for emphasis.Garey roused himself from under the covers, walked into the living room and picked the mouse up by the tail.  “It’s dead,” he said, giving me the look.  You know the one.  It’s the look I use on him when I ask him to get something for me that he can’t find because it is cleverly hidden in plain sight, on the shelf at eye level.  As I watched him fling the dead mouse out of the back door, I felt a bit silly.   “I really did think it was alive.” I said defensively.

With the mouse gone, I felt safe once again.  At times like these, I understand the whole “damsel in distress” situation women sometimes find themselves in.  I understand why the attitude has fallen out of favor in modern times.  Women have made strides in all sorts of areas, taking the lead, not the back seat.  They have become problem solvers in their own right.  In our house, if a breaker throws, I can usually figure out which one it is and set things aright.  I can check my own oil and air up my own tires.  I know my way around a drill press and a Sawsall, but there are a few things that make me come unhinged—enter the half-dead mouse on the living room rug.

In my defense, I’m not the only person beset with irrational fears.  I have a friend who used to call one of our mutual friends every time she caught a mouse in a trap.  Our mutual friend would get into her car and drive over to my friend’s house in order to throw out the dead mouse.  And did you see the news report this week about the Oregon driver who pulled off to the side of the road then exited the car screaming hysterically over a small yellow spider on the dash?  I have a lot of company in this.

The bottom line is, I really depend on my husband, and even though he occasionally gives me “the look,” I know he will be there for me, as I will be for him.  I’ve never seen him flee hysterically from anything, but he has ripped his favorite pair of hunting pants right before deer season, and I was able to come to the rescue with my sewing machine and know-how.  The truth is, whichever one of us goes first, the other will be at a loss because we are a team, and as a team, we rely on one another.