The Post about my Neighbors' Mice Feb 3rd

My next door neighbors have mice.

This wouldn't be a problem if we lived in a nice new sub-division with half an acre of land between their house and ours. But this is the south side of Milwaukee. Our house isn't just a stone's throw away, it's a stones throw for a one armed child with tennis elbow.

It may also pose a slight problem because of my deep and unyielding fear of any rodent that doesn't have a theme park named after him.

For those of you who know me, this is old news. You may skip down the page without fear of retaliation. For those of you new to my world:

I am a 6'3", 300-pound man.

I have been charged by pit bulls while working for a land surveyor.

I have escaped harm at the hands of a group of drunk thugs by pure bravado.

I have, as a hotel manager, kicked out many people with bad mojo in their heart and good firearms at their side.

I have also pushed my wife off a chair and jumped atop it at the sight of a mouse.

I once, at the age of twenty-nine, considered calling my Dad to pick up a dead mouse I found on my property.

I had an on-duty police officer intervene the sole time I tried to kill a mouse, and had him reprimand me for asking him - seriously - to shoot it.

In short, I have a slight fear of mice.

So you can imagine my distress when my neighbor casually dropped her news in my lap. It's just one or two, she said. One or two? That, to me, is the difference between a panic attack and hospitalization.

I thought back to when I moved in. I asked the departing resident - smoothly, I thought - if there had ever been any, you know, mice or anything?

"Oh, we had a mousy here or there, but nothing for years now, "she said. A 'mousy'.

It took my wife a week to get me to stop sleeping in the car.

Logically, I know there is no guarantee that these monsters will visit my home. I can rationalize that my neighbor is a filthy, uncombed woman (which sadly, is untrue). I can conclude that my foundation is miraculously more secure than that of her house. I can hope that she terminates these creatures quickly and completely.

Yet these are just convenient lies. I have no doubt that my neighbor is a clean, meticulous housekeeper. I am sure her basement foundation is as tightly sealed as Don Corleone’s alibi. I know she will fail to punish these rodents as they deserve. Already I can see, in my mind's eye, the mice marching calmly from her house to mine.

So my mind fills with battle plans. Do I purchase traps now, with the idea of ending the threat before I even see it? Do I explore the idea of an exterminator? Or do I do what, frankly, seems like the only intelligent thing to do:

Pull up stakes and move immediately.

Yes, there's the possibility that some minor harm would result. Certainly the kids would miss their friends, our modest investment would be for naught, my wife would be incensed; insignificant riff raff, all. For me, it's worth it.

Or, I could bite the bullet and act like a man. I could put the worries out of mind, and when and if they materialize I could face my phobia and overcome it once and for all.

Uh, yeah.

See you in Toledo.