Things constitutional and evidentiary – The Baxter Bulletin

Stephen Johnson Published 2:23 p.m. CT Nov. 16, 2020

Stephen Johnson(Photo: Submitted photo)

A wife from the kitchen hollers to her husband, who is shaving in the bathroom, "WE HAVE A MOUSE!"

Not a casual observation, her abnormally higher-octave pronouncement is laden with inferences; he had better get some traps set, soon.

He has some traps, remembering where they are is something else. Slicked of whiskers, ready to enjoy his breakfast, he asks, "Where'd you see it?"

"I didn'tsee one, but I found these", she holds out a doubled paper towel with three humble rat droppings. You can substitute the common name for them.

"Where were those?"The question itself created theatrical tension between the two.

"What difference does that make?!"

"Well... if they were under the toaster, or... behind the crock pot, or... or behind something in the pantry, they might be old ones."

Bringing her housekeeping practices into scrutiny didn't improve his standing in the conversation. Mouse droppings indicate the presence of mice; his assignment was to conduct rodent extermination post haste. Due to their consistency, it's really hard to tell if the little "bullets" rodents leave behind were deposited recently or have been drying in place for a while.

The husband (let's call him Thurgood) was fairly nonplussed by the revelation his wife (let's call her Marnie) shrieked so excitedly.

After all, mice are everywhere, like bed bugs, mosquitoes, spiders, ants, etcetera. They come and they go, often unseen and undetected by we humans who act as their unwitting beneficiaries. Appearing in cartoons, they're delightful and cute. In extreme isolation, maybe even deemed suitable companions.

But Thurgood and Marnie's house is off limits to mice and mice's cousins, rats. And though neither spouse had seen one of late, no dispute existed regarding the latest infestation.

It's constitutional you see; one mouse plus one mouse plus more mice constitutes a pack of mice. Each mouse, though perhaps a pipsqueak, is a part of a more alarming "whole." Whether one labels the droppings as "proof," or evidentiary, mattered not an iota to Marnie; she knows that mice practice sleight, excel at staying out-of-sight, but seem incapable of retaining their foul packets of evidence as they scamper through her provisions.

If, somewhere, there exists the group WHOMP (World Humane Organization of Mouse Protection), the lead counsel would no doubt assert that Marnie's declarative sentence, "WE HAVE A MOUSE!", wasinvalid on at least two fronts: no mouse was seen, and the mice, despite their alleged occupation in the house, do not "belong" to Marnie and Thurgood, anyway.

Thurgood would dissent. With both the tacit and active approval of his sweet Marnie, he has for 53 years done his best to exercise reasonable dominion over their home. He built a chain-link fence when the children were small, to protect them from the neighbors extremely fickle boxer, Slaunch. He patched shingles, installed deadbolts, even bought one of those doorbell camera doohickeys. He loves his wife and considers it a privilege to keep their home safe and comfortable for the family.

Mice were way down the list of dangers he considered; they were way high on Marnie's list. She knows from experience, that all it'll take is a dab of peanut butter in a few set traps, and the droppings will disappear. She'll nag him if need be; but he'll set the traps willingly. It's his home too; let the mice hang out at the WHOMP headquarters.

Stephen Johnson, a Baxter County resident since 1955, draws inspiration for his writing from the area's natural beauty and its people. He may be reached at watermarkstudio@hotmail.com.

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Things constitutional and evidentiary - The Baxter Bulletin