THE MOUSE THAT ROARED

Danna Shirley

It was 1986 and Ron and I had just moved into our new home in Vancleave, Mississippi. We had been living in Gautier on the Gulf Coast of Mississippi and Vancleave was about ten miles north of the gulf waters. It was a lovely little place on 4.38 acres with a stocked pond, greenhouse, workshop, fruit trees, and grape arbors. This was country living at its finest and we were going to love it! 

The house originally had been a four-bedroom but the previous owners had taken out one wall to expand the living area. We, however, needed the fourth bedroom so we were going to replace the wall. In the meantime, we placed Russ in Aaron’s room until the work was completed and we stored Russ’ bedroom furniture in the garage. This was a project that got immediate attention, unlike other “Honey Do” items that were ignored over time. Sawing, nailing, sanding, and painting took place every afternoon and the wall was up in record time (wall is behind us in the picture to the right).

When we moved the furniture in and set up the bed, no one noticed that a small hole had been eaten into the underside of the mattress. A few days later we awoke to discover the carpet going into our laundry room had been gnawed and was unraveling. Believing that the little critter had probably come in with Russ’ furniture, we started searching for his mode of travel; thereby, finding the hole in the mattress. My skin crawled as I visualized my sweet little boy sleeping on top of a mouse run amuck.

Ron pulled the mattress out in the yard and gave me his shotgun while he jumped up and down on the mattress hoping the critter would jump through the hole and I could shoot him. Never mind that I had never fired a gun in my life and could just as easily have shot Ron as the mouse. What a sight to behold; Ron systematically jumping up and down on that mattress moving from side to side and working his way down to the hole. Well, you guessed it! The mouse never emerged but I wouldn’t take the mattress back inside. Russ went back to sleep in Aaron’s room until we could buy him another one.

The next morning we awoke to more carpet unraveling by the laundry door. This went on for about four days. “At least he’s trying to get out!” my friend Lilly said. “Why don’t you help him? Leave the laundry room door and garage door open tonight and let me escape!” We did and that was the end of the mouse that roared.

Several months later when I was having overnight company, we pulled out the hide-a-bed and found his nesting place. There were sunflower seed shells and bits of paper inside the couch but the worst discovery was finding one of Ron’s Plankowner Certificates that I had placed under the couch for safekeeping. The critter had chewed along one edge and it was totally ruined. 

At this point I wished I had another chance with that shotgun. I wouldn’t have missed!