Then two nights ago, I saw it… just for a second, but long enough to see it was big.

Not huge big, but big enough to creep me out.

Got some sticky flypaper and laid it on the floor. Closed the door. Went to sleep.

When I woke up yesterday, one of the sticky papers was lying face down on the mat. Stupid mouse got caught but was too big for the thing.

It had escaped, but not before making a mess all over. There was sticky stuff not just on the mat, but also on the toilet seat, the floor and some magazines.

That’s it. Time for the serious stuff.

Went to the mall, looked for some mousetraps, and I bought a couple.

Put some cheese in it, set the traps, and placed them against the bathroom wall.

When I checked yesterday evening, I found out that the stupid mouse wasn’t so stupid after all. One trap wasn’t touched. The other didn’t have its cheese, but also didn’t have a mouse!

That stupid mouse got the stupid cheese without tripping the stupid trap!

Then I saw it. On the wall, scurrying across small picture frames we had placed above the toilet.

It seemed bigger since I last saw it, and that was just a day ago.

It jumped! Straight into a hanging basket a foot away from the frames.

It’s a small rattan basket my wife and I bought many years back, with a plastic leafy plant filling the thing.

So the stupid mouse, I know, is somewhere in the basket, under the plastic plants, hanging from the ceiling near the toilet.

I find a big plastic bag. It seems big enough to take in the whole basket.

Now my heart is pounding. I’m finally going to get this stupid thing.

Holding the plastic bag, I look up at the basket…

And realize that I have to climb on top of the toilet seat to be able to get the basket into the bag.

I can’t see the mouse but I imagine it peering over the edge of basket looking at me.

I almost can’t breathe. If I climb the toilet seat, will it jump out? I see myself falling backward, breaking a foot, or worse.

I count to ten. I climb up the seat. All the while looking at the basket.

I still don’t see it. There’s no movement. But I just know it’s there.

I place the bag under the basket, trying to make sure it will fit.

I’m not sure I can do it! The bag is opened wide, but doesn’t seem wide enough to take in the basket in one quick try.

But I’m already up here. The mouse is just there.

With a deep breath, I do it. It takes everything not to scream just to calm my nerves.

The plastic bag takes in the basket, but not all of it!

The basket falls to the seat, as I quickly jump off.

Black bits of smelly stuff spill across the floor, and the basket overturns.

Still no mouse! Somehow, I get the bag over the whole basket, plastic plants and all.

I quickly tie the top, get another plastic bag and put the whole thing in it.

I tie the second bag, and just for the heck of it, get yet another bag and put everything in it!

Then I think, is the mouse still even there? Or did it manage to leave while I was getting the bag?

Did I get the mouse? In my head and my pounding heart, I believe I did.

But I can’t be sure. So I go outside to the garage, and leave the bags there.

I’ll take care of this and check tomorrow, I think to myself. And, if the stupid mouse escapes, at least it’s out of the house.

I go back up to our room, and take a full 30 minutes to clean up the mess in the bathroom. The bathroom quickly fills with the smell of Lysol.

Finally, it is done. I take a quick shower and convince myself I feel clean. I close the bathroom door and go back to bed.

I listen for the noise that will say I still didn’t get the stupid mouse, but it’s all quiet.

Still I can’t sleep, so I go down back to the garage. The bag is still there. Intact, and motionless.

I’m still too wound up to open it to check. But I don’t want it to escape. So I find a plastic pail and put it over the bags.

Then I remember how big the stupid thing was. Could it tip the pail over? I find a hollow block and put that on top of the pail.

Finally. Finally, I am able to sleep.

The night was quiet. No more noise. I did get the stupid mouse. Or did I?

This morning, when I woke up, I checked. The bag was still closed, and seemed intact.

I take it, get in my car, and drive to UP. I find an open field and park.

I gingerly open the outside bag, and take out the inside bag.

There’s a hole on one end! But still no mouse!

I open the second bag, and it smells of pungent stuff. Not dead stuff. Pungent, weewee stuff.

Still no mouse, but the final inside bag also has a hole.

I open the last bag, and shake it to let the basket to drop to the ground.

It drops and half rolls to a stop. Suddenly, the mouse jumps out and scurries across the field.

It stops by a small tree, stands on its hind legs and I swear it looks back at me.

“You still didn’t get me,” the stupid mouse seems to say.

And, worse, the stupid mouse now seems smaller than I remember.

I decide to name the stupid mouse Marcos.

I got it. And still didn’t.

He’s now smaller than I remember. But he’s still around. And is still a pest.

Marcos pa rin.