A few weeks ago Grace and I broke into our next book, Stuart Little. We got home and read the first couple of chapters after nap time. That very night, after the girls had gone to bed, Jim and I were watching a movie in the basement. (It was, by the way, The Astronaut Farmer, which we thought was terrible...) Anyway, about halfway through, something caught my eye from across the room. Instantly, I shrieked, "It's a mouse!!" and Jim shot across the room- Bebo was very close behind. It disappeared right away and the hunt was on. Stuart's family welcomed him in to their home with open arms. We Kochs aren't that accepting of rodents. I've never had a mouse in my home before, so all kinds of thoughts were running through my head. Things like, what's the best kind of mouse trap? When was I going to fit in going to the store to get one the next day? And how in the world am I going to get a mouse trap safely in our home without having to worry about the girls touching/eating it, depending on our method of choice? Of course the mouse was nowhere to be found, but Bebo hunted it with a sharp intensity until we made him go to bed.
The next morning at breakfast we told Grace all about our very own Stuart Little. She was impressed. Bebo was obsessed. I ran downstairs to start some laundry. I noticed that the lid was up on the toilet in our guest bathroom and I went in to close it. And there it was. Whether he got thirsty after being chased by our persistent terrier for two hours, or suicidal knowing with a dog like that in the house, his death was imminent, he dove in to our toilet sometime the night before, couldn't get out, and drowned. After the initial surprise, I laughed out loud, and couldn't believe how convenient the situation was. Jim had a great time educating the girls about mice and the importance of water safety before flushing the mouse. And in a small way, life imitated art...sort of.
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