It wasn’t what I was expecting to see when I opened the glove compartment. Nestled in with my car registration, a faithful Oldsmobile manual, and sundry other bits and pieces. I don’t actually remember why I yanked open the drawer in the first place, but I had most certainly not anticipated company. Nonetheless, there it was, blinking up at me, small, fat, and twitching.
It was a mouse. Quite a large one (I think it was pregnant). That, in and of itself, was in my unbiased opinion right and proper provocation for a very loud, very high-pitched scream. Shriek might be a better word.
Now I’ve recently read The Borrowers, and I’m all for the little people in this world. (Little in this case meaning approximately three inches tall.) Just not in my car. Although if they’re looking for another sequel for the Clock family (that’s the heros in The Borrowers for those of you uneducated in children’s book lore), I could make a suggestion. Just imagine what would happen if the Clocks tried to live in a car for awhile. Better yet, make it an RV. You’d get all sorts of adventures.
Too bad I wasn’t facing a three-inch human. I might have had a fantastic story to tell. Not that anyone would believe me. But instead I was face-to-face with a three-inch mouse, and I didn’t really fancy the notion of keeping him. Pets in your house are one thing - but in your car? After wrapping up my very necessary and impressive shriek (I took voice lessons, you know), I slammed the glove compartment door shut again. Sort of like a magic trick, I guess. Now you see him . . . and now you don’t! Then I gave the door a few solid smacks with the palm of my hand. Hm. What next?
Rid of the rodent temporarily - or, at least, he was out of sight - I peeped into the glove compartment for a closer look at the damage. Do mice nest? Cause I’m pretty sure that’s what this little guy was trying to do. A fairly good-sized ball of yarn/foam/insulation stuff had appeared from who knows where, and this was sprinkled with a lovely assortment of chewed-up paper. The pink flakes of which happened to be my car registration paper. I have a three-year old niece who has a habit of eating these little forms, so I guess I shouldn’t be too surprised. In fact, I should probably be grateful. My little visitor only nibbled on the edges; my niece chomped down the whole thing.
Then I shut the lid, pounded on it a few more times, and started the car.
Yep, that’s right. I purposefully tried to scare the little mouse into running away (hopefully into the intricacies of the car engine) and then turned the key. I think I expected my car to blow up. Or to hear a “Yee-ow!” and see a little ball of fuzz go flying through the air. Well, it didn’t. At least the car didn’t. The mouse might have; I’m not sure. I haven’t seen him since. I’m rather hoping I don’t ever.
My newly-designed car registration paper now resides safely in my back seat for the wind to blow where it pleases. I hope I don’t get pulled over any time soon. On the plus side, I have to say that my glove compartment has never been cleaner . . . So, here’s a friendly word of warning from one who’s been there: Always beware when opening the lid to your glove compartment. You never know what might be in there.
