Of Mice and ME

  To take my mind off the fact that I have only sporadic hearing in my left ear, I ventured  outside and noticed that the bulbs are emerging so I went to the she-shed to retrieve the rake. The mower is not there, so not much to attract the vermin, one would think. Last year, I tried every deterrent I'd ever heard of: repellent, steel wool, oils, spices, and poison and traps as a last resort. I'd even put some home-grown catnip in a margarine tub, thinking that might repel them, at least a little.
     When I opened the door to the mostly empty space, I noticed the catnip tub was overflowing, weirdly I thought: maybe mildew? I picked it up and stared straight into the face of a mouse.* It stood and glared at me, so I grabbed the tub and threw it outside. I suspect that since the mouse seemed to be standing guard over it that there is probably a litter inside the mass of its contents. I'm not going to look.
*  Some years ago, a similar event happened at Ann's house on New Turnpike Road. Dave and I were removing a mattress from a long-deserted outbuilding for disposal in the City Trash pickup unit you could reserve then. Dave grabbed one end of the mattress which was leaning against the wall, where it had no doubt rested for a number of years. I bent down to pick up the other, and came face-to-face just inches away from  the largest possum you could ever imagine. I'm not sure how many teeth a possum has, but they seemed oversized and arranged in double rows along a wide-open mouth, which was hissing and spitting. I screamed so loud that the neighbor heard me in her house.  The possum, obese and most likely aged, waddled slowly away toward where Matt had once planted a garden. It was a big fat possum.