Don’t Just Face It! Embrace It!

It was wildly windy last night. No rain here in Wharton, but Wow! was there wind. And with the wind, came a cool cold front.

The RV rocked and shook in manically uneven rhythms all night as the temperature dipped to near record lows.

As I write this morning, it’s 41 degrees at 3:30 a.m.

I happily donned my sweatshirt as I set about, repositioning Henry’s bed away from the bright fake fireplace to the far (10 feet maybe – it is an RV after all) corner of the living room.

He wouldn’t lay down because his bovinophobia has flared up again. But this isn’t really a story about cows, except in Henry’s mind, it’s about phobias. Although I have to admit, cows are pretty scary when their eyes glow.

What this really is, is my final post on rodents, unless one makes a nest in the bed, as I’m told happened to a gate guard down south. This amazing deed transpired all in the course of one day. The lady-of-the-gate made her bed one morning and by the time she was ready for sleep that night, there was a nest in it, complete with mice. No kidding! My friend ran into her at the laundromat the next day!

Since one of us is sleeping about 18 out of every 24 hours, the mice would have to be quick. What they may lack in speed, they more than make up for in noise.

I’ve only seen three  – or one, three times. It’s pretty hard to say. There was the pitter- patter of paws across the kitchen floor one night. There was  the about-face mouse in the bathroom another. And of course, there was the one hanging out on the front door a few nights ago. The 11 that have found their way to the Doritos, I’ve left to Heidi’s charge.

Unfortunately, Henry has yet to see a mouse, but he sees cows on a regular basis.

We’ve taken everything out from under the cabinet, stuffed the hole with steel wool and emptied the drawers on the side. The  food is sealed in bins and containers.

That does leave quite a hollow sound under the sink. When the mice are overcome by the draw of the Dorito, they bounce around like malfunctioning pinballs. It’s amazingly loud!

Henry has decided, I think, although I don’t know this for a fact, that there are tiny cows living down there.

It’s gotten so bad that he won’t sleep beside the cabinet. My pet therapy dog may need pet therapy if we can’t conquer these small home invaders soon.

I don’t think I’m musophobic (the phobic fear of mice and rats), but just in case I Googled the cure.

According to Reid Wilson, author of Don’t Panic,  if you do have musophobia, you should plaster pictures of mice all over the walls and go to the pet store to buy one. (Don’t spend the money on this step if you’re phobic as I have plenty you can have for free.) Bring the mouse home and let him run up  and down your arms. Above all, Wilson urges you to embrace your anxiety. He says you need to put your game face on:

I want to get anxious around mice because that’s what’s required to get better. The longer I feel this, the better it’s going to be. That kind of spirit is so helpful to people who are trying to get over this stuff. ~ Reid Wilson

I’m guessing this last part applies to bovinophobia as well. So, in the wee hours of the morning, I slowly slid Henry’s bed back over to its normal spot. He put his best game face on and is now anxiously waiting for the cows to come home.