The First Mouse My Wife Caught: Part 2

So we decided to open the grinder from the back and get the mouse out from the hiding place. When the time came to do it, I discovered that the wife’s role was to stay inside the house and lean against the closed door while I battled it out alone with the mouse. Seeing that there was no other option, I opened the back panel and the top basin by removing all the screws. I found the fellow sitting under the basin, looking at me with occasionally blinking eyes. It wouldn’t move from there despite the interrogation light on its eyes. I decided to spray it with air freshener as the helpful neighbor had suggested the previous day. The mouse took it, and I think it liked the fragrance. It stayed put, looking at me expectantly for more. Then my wife suggested I blow air on it with vacuum cleaner. I did that. This time he retired from under the basin to the back of the grinder, under the motor. I shone the torch into its eyes from the back. It just kept looking at me, not making a sound. I left the door and the back panel open and went into the house, hoping it would come out and go its way. I waited a half hour, but it stayed put. It probably liked the duplex box of the grinder, with its wires and smell of flour, now mixed with the fragrance of the air freshener. People going up and down the stairwell looked curiously at the whole thing. I got tired of it all, and closed the door as well as the back panel, with a plan to leave the door open at night so that it would go away looking for food and hopefully not come back to the grinder. The cleaning woman came to clean, and was not very happy that the mouse was not yet gone. She finished cleaning and opened the door to go away. Then she screamed and slammed the door shut. She had seen the fellow sitting just outside the door, and he had lovingly put his tail on her foot too. We launched into another debate. He must have escaped by pushing the back panel out, since I had not fixed it with screws. Now he wanted to come back into the house. We decided we did not want him at any cost. The neighbors had heard the commotion. We heard their door being doubly bolted from the inside. They also did not seem keen on having him. The cleaning woman wanted to go to clean up some other places, provided we guaranteed her safe passage. So I banged on the door a few times to warn him that I was coming out armed and he shouldn’t try anything funny. My wife stood safely away. I opened the door. The fellow was in hiding or had gone away through the grill of the outside safety door. The cleaning woman hurried away. I closed the door. We couldn’t stay inside indefinitely though. Finally we decided we needed expert help. I rang up the security fellow and requested him to send the gardener to get rid of the mouse. We warned the neighbors on phone to keep their door closed until we gave the all clear signal. They said OK. The gardener arrived. He took stock of the situation, and slay the mouse after five minutes of furious combat. The neighbors came out relieved, and blabbered excitedly. I kept thinking of the helpless eyes of the fellow as he had looked at me in the torchlight. Then I spent one and a half hours cleaning the grinder with isopropyl alcohol, detergent and water, thinking about the cuts I acquired in the process and leptospirosis.