Oct 8, 2015 3 min read

You would think that a house with three dogs would not be a house with a mouse, but no. Our three furry friends, while cute, are a disappointment these days.

The mouse began making nightly visits to the kitchen about a week ago; judging from its leavings, it wanders across the counter and onto the stove, before stopping by the sink.

The morning after the first mousely visit, I was making coffee when I saw the signs. We all know the cartoon cliché: the housewife sees the mouse and climbs onto a chair and starts screaming for help. When I saw the droppings, I may not have jumped onto a chair, but I certainly did the screaming part of that scenario.

The farmer is not creeped out or even concerned about sharing the space with a mouse (if I weren’t here, he would name the mouse and keep it), but he said he would set traps. I asked why that should even be necessary.

“Why don’t the dogs take care of this?”

The farmer answered something about them not being cats, but that’s not a good answer. Here are three dogs that exist to harass others. Howard, the Wheaten terrier, is no longer allowed to be in the front yard because he sits at the electric fence line and howls at any passing dog that is larger or hairier than he is. When he’s in the back yard, he sits at the base of trees waiting for squirrels to come down so he can chase them back up again.

Howard: a mouse is just a smaller cousin of a squirrel. Just saying.

Then there is Lucy, the sheltie. Now, Lucy may be elderly, and she doesn’t get around much any more. But she barks at all movement, including when I walk downstairs and when I get up from my desk chair. She can hear when I get out of bed upstairs, and barks. Lucy spends the night in the kitchen, and she can’t tell me she doesn’t notice a mouse.

Sigh, now let’s talk about Smoothie, the small, nutty sheltie. He spends all day protecting the house from threats, including his reflection in the oven door and what we believe must be a flock of ghost sheep. Shelties live to chase and herd, and Smoothie runs in circles through the house, barking and twirling, getting those imaginary sheep to fall in line.

But let a real critter cross his path? He can’t be bothered.

“Smoothie lives in a parallel universe that isn’t part of the human world,” said the farmer. I get nothing but excuses from all of them.

We feed these dogs, pet them, we let them sleep with us, we make up special songs about them, we groom them, vaccinate them, pay huge amounts to have their teeth cleaned, for heaven’s sake. You think they’d feel like they owed us a little something in return.

Like maybe killing the mouse. Or at least scaring it enough so it doesn’t come around.

Right about now, Howard and Lucy and Smoothie are lucky I am allergic to cats. Just saying.

Beth Dolinar can be reached at cootiej@aol.com.