As I took my first step, I froze in complete fear!! I'm guessing by the look on my face you would have thought I saw the devil himself!
Knowing my sweet hubs was sitting on the sofa watching television in the living room below, I tried to speak. But all that came out of my mouth was "Hamana-hamana-hamana..."
Then as I'm watching it try to climb down another stair I scream, "THERE'S A MOUSE!!!!"
My sweet hubs gets up and says, "Where??"
RIGHT THERE!! RIGHT THERE!! as I point wildly!!
When he finally sees it he says, "Awwww.... He's just a little sh*t."
Really??!!! Just a little sh*t?! REALLY??!! I'm pretty sure that "little sh*t" wants to lunge at me and go for my jugular!!
As I see it start to move again deciding if it should come back up the stairs or go down, I begin to babble and panic even more!!
"Where am I going to go??!! Where am I going to go??!!" OMG, I can't run in the bathroom or bedrooms because there are lots of gaps in these old farmhouse doors and he'll get me!! I just know it!!
It is then my sweet hubs decides to try and grab him with one of the dogs' blankie that was on the sofa. Speaking of which neither one of my girls came to my rescue. Hmpf! Sure they barked when they heard me scream. But that was about it. They must have been too comfortable on my chair (that I never get to sit on) to be bothered with me.
Thanks for nothin', girls!!
Anyway, I then hear my sweet hubs. "Oooops! C'mere little guy... D*mn it!! Where'd ya go?? C'mon! Where are ya?? There you are! C'mere...
He then opened the front door and gently placed him on the porch and watched him scurry off.
Now that I've had 24 hours to think about it...
Sure he was only a wee inch and a half long and sure he was probably a baby and more terrified than I was and sure he was so tiny he could barely make it down a step and yes, I may have overreacted just a bit. But if it ever happens again...
I will absolutely react the same way.
This is only the second time we've had a mouse in our actual living quarters. We usually have them in the attic and I never see them. Hubs takes care of "mouse duty." Like I always say, I love and adore nature. But not inside my house.
I guess I should consider myself lucky. Only 2 in 15 years? That's not bad for a farmhouse that's 154 years old.
Oh. One more thing. When I walked out onto the front porch this morning, there was a teeny, weeny, yellow, sticky note stuck about a half inch up from the bottom of the door.
It read, "I'LL BE BACK!"