Of Mice and Men

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A Potter Valley woman wounded herself and a man July 3 while attempting to kill mice with a .44-caliber Magnum revolver, according to the Mendocino County Sheriff’s Office.

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Drunk in a trailer, shooting at mice with a Magnum, drops the gun, bullet goes through her kneecap, glances off some keys, grazes her boyfriend’s groin…and ends up in his pocket where it’s recovered by the police.

Life. The most prolific creative writer. Ever.

I saw this on Cherish Me’s site and HAD to read the whole article myself … I think its about the funniest story I’ve heard in a LONNNNG time!

And while it is a very astute example of what I mean when I say “finding the absurdity and humor” in life, my laugh was one of familiarity – the laugh of someone who could have been the subject of a similar story…

Back in the late 80’s, I was a very young bride living in my “new” house (built circa 1940’s). In typical 40’s fashion, the kitchen had been retro-fitted with a washing machine, but the dryer was out in the detached garage. It was basically a shed connected to the house by a carport. Also built in the 40’s or 50’s, it was old and musty and had been used as a shed for decades. My dryer was hooked up just inside the aged double doors that swung outward onto the driveway.

One Saturday morning, I was doing some laundry and had just started a load in the dryer. Heading back inside the house, out of the corner of my eye I saw a kitten dart into the garage.

“Awww! A kitten! How sweet!” I thought, heading back to see if I could coax it out of the darkness. Plus, I had realized I had left my book, coffee, and smokes (Yes, I DID smoke back then) on top of the dryer with my basket.

Opening the door and looking down into the semi-darkness for the kitten, I was horrified to see a large rat, the size of – yes, you guessed it! – a kitten, blinking up at me. NOT what I expected. I registered the size, the beady eyes, and the teeth before the reality caught up with me and panic began to set in.

Slamming the garage door, I ran into the house, yelling for my new hubby to GETUP! GETUP! HURRY! GET OUT HERE RIGHT NOW!!

He was asleep, confused as to exactly WHY I was yelling at him – what was I yelling about a kitten and coffee and the garage? and finally said, “ok, ok … now wait. What’s wrong again?“

After I explained the HUGENESS of the rat and, more importantly, that he was between me and my caffeine and my nicotine, which were most definitely necessary after the shock of meeting up with him, he said to give him a minute, he would be right there.

I went back outside to keep watch over the door and to make sure he didn’t escape. When I heard the back door open, I turned around to find RAMBO, complete with camo fatigue pants and white t-shirt, standing there with a revolver. As in a gun. What looked to me like a really BIG gun.

“What do you think you’re going to do with THAT?” I finally managed to ask.

“What?” he said with a trace of irritation, “I’m going to get rid of the rat.”

“With THAT?!” I asked. “A GUN? It’s as big as the rat! There won’t be anything left to dispose of if you use THAT thing!”

Call me naive, but I guess I expected a trap.

Maybe a fishing net.

POSSIBLY a tennis racket.

But I never expected to see this Rambo-esque, pistol-packing, determined guy who resembled my husband.

Shows what I know!

Yes, while most new husbands experience the moment when their young wives ask them to kill the spider or wasps, MY husband was answering the call by going into the poorly-lit, 6′ x 12′ old garage with a .22 pistol loaded with “rat shot” and take care of that rat for his new bride! What he was going to do after he killed it wasn’t really clear, but make no mistake: that rodent was going down!

Chivalry, it seems, is in fact NOT dead …

just incognito under the auspices of a suburban guerrilla!

Thankfully, when he went in search of said rodent, it was never found. It probably slipped out the back in one of the gaps in the wall, hearing all the commotion coming from the driveway. Mostly me laughing.

And while it remains to this day one of those stories I still love to tell and laugh about, while he explains why it wasn’t as insane as I make it sound, one thing I knew:

I knew he was willing to go to great lengths to defend and protect his family.

Love comes in all shapes and sizes they say.

Yep. Even in camo fatigues, brandishing a .22 revolver on a Saturday morning – saving the laundry, my habit and nerves, and the day!

Finding the humor,

~me