An Invisible Mouse

I loathe rodents. They make me cringe and go to bed with tennis shoes bolted to my feet. Last year we killed two under our kitchen sink. Uggg--I think they're worse than roaches and just one tiny step down from earwigs. They are an invisible menace and their infestation haunts me until I hear that snap and know that all my worries are over--maybe. There might be one more.

But pretty soon the memory of a mouse fades away and life gets back to normal.

The other day, during the middle of the day, I heard a scraping sound. You know that sound. It makes the hair on the back of your neck prickle just like mine. It's one of those sounds that makes me run to denial: must be a child with a piece of paper, or something falling from the counter. Then I eventually come to terms with the fact that it's an unwelcome visitor.

This unwelcome visitor, however, ended up not being of the rodent variety. It was, in fact, already a welcomed guest in our home. He's become quite the recluse lately and I almost forgot he existed. When he formed his cocoon I assumed that we would hear nothing else from him, but I was mistaken.

That little worm wiggles around in his cocoon/leaf wrap palace. Since I relocated him to his net cage with the cardboard floor, whenever he even slightly moves he makes a scraping sound identical to a scavenging mouse.

So, from time to time that little glorified worm gives me a shot of adrenaline to make it through my day. Thanks, Kermit (that's his name).