If You Give A Mouse An Office…He Probably Will Ask For A Raise

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Be sure to delete all your cookies or I just might eat them.

I am an animal magnet but not to be confused with a hoarder. I have two dogs, and a Horse and I find that to be more than enough legs for one woman to manage. Sunny Bear the Wonder Horse is my best friend and my dogs Bodhe and Tahoe are my babies. I have the biggest heart for all animals, well almost. All except snakes, because let’s be honest here, snakes are basically the Ass Holes of the animal kingdom.

But let’s not get it twisted here; I like animals in their proper place and not in places where you least expect to see them. Case in point, my office. This week a small tiny gray mouse has decided he is going all Cinderella on me and move in on my job like that Junior executive who is fresh out of college and wears argyle sweater vests and will work for pennies on the dollar. With no resume or even an interview, and armed only with his sneaky maneuvers, he just waltzes in like he owns the joint. I’m all for welcoming the office newbie, but not one who sneaks up under my chair to implement his hostile take-over.

It started on a Monday when I was at my desk minding my business (and by business I mean creating a new Internet radio station of my favorite Alt rockers called “The Indie-Ans In My Cupboard ”) when I thought I saw something kind of flutter across the floor of my office like a feather or maybe anything other than an uh, I don’t know…an RODENT! My immediate response was to not so much scream, but more of a chirp, like a really loud bird-like sound that only a very large macaw in a pair of navy chinos and sensible flats would make.

I jumped to my feet as he ran back into the office bathroom and disappeared under the heater thing that puts out hot air that smells like burnt dust bunnies. Oh goo! I’ve scared him back into his middle earth mice lair and he will never come back.  Such a relief. Because at this point I’m pretty sure this is just a big misunderstanding and he just took a wrong turn and was totally embarrassed that he ended up in our totally non-mouse friendly place of business. Not unlike that time In Vegas when I ran into the men’s restroom in the MGM Grand. No harm, no foul, let’s all just move on okay?

Before I can even exhale,  five minutes later, armed only with his arrogance and a flair for the dramatic he was back! And this time he wanted blood. In what I can only assume was an attempt to tie my shoe laces together or even possibly murder me, (in broad daylight mind you!) he crept  all the way to my chair.

Right. Next. To. My. Chair.

As I shifted my seat, I startled him and there I saw and HEARD him run from directly beside me back out my office door. Gone. Pitter-patter-PEW! I proceeded to actually levitate and let out a cry that is still echoing in the northern Colorado foothills today, I lost all ability to function as a dutiful employee and was now a hysterical Loony Tunes character from the 50’s.

Racing to the hallway to see where this brazen beast had gone, there was nothing but a trail of wind where he had tore ass out of site, leaving nothing but my sheer panic in his dust. Speedy Gonzales is now retreated into the shadows and the darkest places in my brain. Lurking…waiting…planning his attack. The remainder of the day was spent stomping my feet loudly everywhere I walked to be sure to warn him I was coming and to dare not jump me. I figured if I kept moving it would throw him off his game. (and Yes I decided the gender of the mouse because even though I am terrified of him I can’t with my bleeding heart call him “it”)… and if he is anything like that spider that once had crawled on me in bed as a kid, I’m convinced he will be waiting for me until I have “proof of death”, his or mine (whomever’s comes first).

I needed a plan for the rest of the work week. Not sure if that plan consists of a Haz-Mat crew, A Swat Deployment, or hiring mercenary cats for a seek and destroy mission? There was no way I was going to be able to work knowing that little demon is lying in wait for me as I tried to be a productive employee. Nor was I looking forward to encountering a bloodied carcass on my way to refill my water bottle.  Obviously we would put out a peanut butter trap for him, how can that not work? It would TOTALLY work on me. You put peanut butter on just about anything and you will have me crawling naked through a storm drain to get to it, so how would a mouse be any different? Is that too barbaric? Is PETA going to shame me for this? Then how about a broom and just gently sweep him out the door?  Or get a butterfly net and catch him? Oh man, I am soooo not getting any sleep this week.

At approximately 4:57 am Tuesday morning, after a night of tossing and turning and contemplating my imminent death by a rodent the size of my thumb, I came up with a solution. I will bring my own protection to the office, not in the form of traps or poison, but fear. Good old fashioned I’m-scarier-than-you Fear! If I can make the enemy afraid to pass into my realm, then I can defeat him without bloodshed. All I need is to plant the fear of death into his tiny head so he can turn skinny tail and never dare return.

So I decided to bring my trusty brute squad to work with me and so far she is protecting me with her fierce fighting stance and ability to scare even the most ferocious of beasts with her big brown eyes and soft pink belly. Luckily one look at her sleeping belly up at my feet will surely terrify this menace and send him back to Mouse Town with a cautionary tale of the white wolf in suite A-202. *

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Meet Tahoe the Terrible. Mice better recognize.

*Mouse wars update- it has been two weeks and still no sight of the mouse. However, we did hear that he is now in our neighbor’s office next door. They also are now bringing their dog to work.

Hey, is this thing on?

My post yesterday never showed up in the reader feed. So I am checking to see if this will actually show up.

It can be one of 3 things:

  • a glitch in the wordpress.com system that I already have a conversation going with the fine people here about.
  • All 449 of my followers are experiencing a world-wide system failure but are desperate to read all about my dog’s cone of shame.
  • Or my post about his unfortunate “undercarriage” procedure was just pushing it too far as subject matter. (sorry about that)

I am hoping for the glitch. I don’t wish any harm on my fellow bloggers and the later just would just reinforce my fear of rejection.

 

Duck, Luck and Goose.

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When I am not saving the world from copious amounts of dog hair armed with my trusty lint rollers, I’m taking pictures. Nature, pets and the occasional human are my subject of choice. My dogs and horse are my muses and I am THAT girl running around after them with a camera to capture their every expression or ridiculous sleeping poses. However, I do venture out into the great wide open and capture beauty other than the glorious underbellies of my beasts. 

Living here in colorful Colorado, I am spoiled with an almost daily dose of sunsets to die for. The combination of elevation, Rocky Mountains, and jet stream winds create an enormous cloud-painted deep blue sky. My neighbors probably think I am crazy running outside in my favorite tie dye sweats to grab another shot of the day’s end. I have to navigate a virtual mine field of Canadian goose poop left by a flock of 300 who torment my dogs from the large open field outside my front door. 

As I am hunkering down in the grass trying to frame the pink and gold clouds, I kept stepping around this feather. I noticed it in the field outside my front door a couple of days ago and paid no mind to it. My mom’s voice always rings in my ears when i see a stray feather “Don’t touch that, it is filled with parasites!” I have never been one to pick up a stray feather, they remind me of mites and well basically…dead birds. And I have to be honest, I am not a fan of our feathered friends from the north. They are loud, mean, and leave a mess only a Sigma Chi keg party could rival. They are like a gang of bullies who honk obscenities at my dogs as they helplessly watch from the living room window. “Hey whitey? I’m pooping on your grass, whatcha gonna do ’bout it huh?”  All while leaving a trail of dirty feathers and gag-inducing muck all over my lawn. 

For whatever reason I was not getting the photos of my dreams last night and it dawned on me that this dirty feather was catching the afternoon glow. I ducked down (pun totally intended here) and caught that last light of the day behind that discarded plumage and created an image that blew up on Instagram* last night. Funny how I can set out to photograph what I have planned in my head as beautiful and end up with something totally random. I stepped over that feather numerous times to capture the pink and yellow sky and out of 20 or so shots, this happened.

Serendipity in the form of a something that fell off the butt of a goose. And this my friends, is why I love photography. One goose’s trash is this chick’s treasure. 

*follow me @trishkthedish for more gratuitous sunsets and dog photos, I also have a Facebook page for my photography at Big Blue Sky Photography if anyone wants to see stunning photos of my dogs eating peanut butter.