I’m sitting on the couch with its sunken cushions under a sage green cover that’s fabric looks like corduroy but feels softer. I’m typing on my laptop, reply to an email or otherwise wasting time on the web. I’m readjusting, placing my take out Mexican food on the table next to me and there he is: a furry brown ball looking at me a good half-foot out from my corner of the couch. It’s about the same size as the bundle of velcro that keeps my power cord together in storage. But The comparison is all I get before it runs back under the couch. All I can think is Oh, you’re up here now.
They’ve migrated from the basement. I’d seen this fellow- or his relatives – at least 3 separate times running across the basement concrete near the washer and dry. They’d scurry under the shelving units as I worked out on the treadmill downstairs. I never freaked out when I saw the rodents; I’ve had six as pets, at the time two female albino mice I saved from being eaten by snakes from a lab class. These ones running around freely, however, where about twice their size.
They’d been here before.
As had rats and mice and squirrels. Our house had a poorly built foundation in that they managed to leave at least two good passageways for rodents. We’d filled in one near the garage and the last time these particular rodents had visited we thought the other way had been sealed. But little animals can find a way to get into a warm, dry place. So again our basement had them roaming its dark, cool crevices and floors. They’d made their way up to the living room now, just as they had before; so when I saw him sitting there I was hardly surprised.
Because this is what comes to mind at work on those long, boring days.
This work by Sarah Holmes is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License.