“Pastor Andrea, do you have big plans for your vacation?”
Many folks will ask me this when they know I am taking some vacation time. Will I go for a camping trip or a retreat to the mountains? What about relaxing and reading on the beach? Will I take some time to tour museums?
I must disappoint you all. I usually spend my vacation at home, cleaning, and the theme of this year is eradicating mouse evidence from the nooks and crannies.
I spent four hours yesterday taking everything out of my car, scrubbing the hidden crevasses, wedging the skinny vacuuming tool until it creaked, and while I saw evidence aplenty, I did not find the nest I was looking for – I avoided looking under my car’s hood. I hope the citrus cleaning spray functions as sufficient deterrent to keep the critters out of my car’s cabin, but I also keep thinking about how such a small creature triggers such large reaction, and how my partner and I differ in our response to the theoretical and actual rodent.
Before you read further, if you do not know of House Mouse Designs, you should probably follow the link button below to see the “Micest” place on the internet.
My family first encountered House Mouse Designs at one of the craft fairs we attended, and we fell in love with the adventures of Amanda, Monica, Mudpie, Maxwell, and Muzzy. Over the years, several friends, a cat or two, chipmunks, birds, have become regular parts of the world of the House Mice, and the world has expanded to make room for the adventures of the Happy Hoppers (rabbits), the Gruffies (bears), and the “Wee Poppets.” These mice I find adorable, their antics entertaining, and I love the creativity of the artist to imagine these micro stories.
Fast forward a few decades from my first encounter with the House Mouse family, my partner had the chance to purchase some prints of little mice. I forget how he learned of this series, but thanks to the power of Google Lens, I found the artist website.
These paintings fit so well in character with the House Mouse designs that I am happy to have them framed, hanging on our office wall. They are the photorealistic answer to the cartoon designs I enjoy so much, and they make me smile when I see them.
Cartoons and fantasy are as far as my appreciation for mice extends. From the mice in Disney’s Cinderella to a few mouse-themed computer games, I appreciate these adorable tales. But when a friend in seminary had a couple of mice as pets, while I cheerfully brought my empty paper towel tubes for the mice to create masterful works of labyrinthine art, I balked and froze whenever my friend took her mice out of their cage. I do not like live, real mice. My partner, while agreeing that mice do not belong in the house, still finds the actual critters adorable. He is always worried that the “moosies” we hear occasionally in the walls make it safely outside to a proper den. He does not take the same vindictive satisfaction as I do in expelling the creatures. I am willing to carve out the time necessary to reclaim my space in the name of humans. My partner wants to know the mouse has some other space to be, safe from predators and “rampaging Andreas.” I do rampage. I cannot stand seeing mouse evidence – the mere sight makes me feel dirty, contaminated, and unable to touch anything. Once I have seen it, and am therefore unclean, I may as well scour the area so I can feel clean again.
“Out, Damn’d Spot. Out.”
Perhaps I weigh heavily on the violent, vindictive cleaning because I feel guilty. I say I love nature; I say I want to be good for the environment and ecosystem, yet there are so many parts of nature I do not appreciate, destructive rodents being one of them. How can I both want to nurture the natural environment and destroy everything in nature that annoys me? In the springtime, that annoyance umbrella covers everything that makes me sneeze – most tree pollens, according to my allergy tracking app. How can I sincerely say I want to do what I can to protect the environment, while also living comfortably? In the summertime, we use an air-conditioning unit, in the winter sometimes open windows in order to keep the house at a reasonable temperature. How can I both want to protect the natural world and also make these choices? While it is true that some of these situations are not in my control, do I still feel guilty?
Out, darn spot, indeed.
Let me erase all evidence of this tiny creature so I can feel safe and comfortable.
Now, to be fair, if I have an issue with mice in the house, my partner has a bigger issue when they build nests in his car, or when chipmunks store acorns in his air system, or any other number of hazards of living in the country. I cannot help but think that these creatures, regardless of urban or rural, are going to do as their instincts say – build a nest in a sheltered place, store the acorns in a super-secret hidey-hole. Even if we lived in a more developed area, or even if we parked in a garage, we could still have the issue of critters invading where we do not want them. But they do invade, they are no respecter of persons, they just want to survive.
My partner wants them to survive and thrive somewhere else. I simply want them gone. If they have to invade my life, then there must be a surplus population, and it is time to call in the owls and the cats. I am always happy when the predator animal removes the rodent. My partner gets very upset. He certainly likes owls and cats, finds them adorable and fascinating, not to mention hilarious, but he cannot join me in my glee that another rodent has been put to better use – nourishing a baby owl.
When I think about our responses to a tiny rodent, I cannot help but wonder if we, as a culture, do the same with people? Cheer on the powerful predator, taking out the dirty mouse that poops everywhere. Make my home, car, and garage as inhospitable as possible to the little mouse that just wants a safe place to rest from the cold. Set traps to lure the mouse, lull it into a sense of safety, then when it finally reaches out believing a tasty meal is at hand, spring the trap, denying the mouse the comfort it wants most. Do we treat people the same way?
My tender, compassionate partner just wants that mouse to live as it is meant to, as long as that space is not in his car.