The Nightstand Intruder

Our house was built in 1966, and despite its being within the Indianapolis city limits, the property is surrounded by woods and wildlife. We were fortunate to have lived in it for three years before we ever saw a sign of a mouse. We discovered the first little critter when our niece Lindsey spent the night in our small guest room and brought her cat Tony with her. Lindsey tapped on our bedroom door in the middle of the night and told us something was in her bedroom, and it was making her cat go wild. We did not know what to think of the situation.

Then, not 30 minutes later, she came back into our room with a shoebox. Tony had cornered a mouse, so Lindsey picked it up and put it in the box. The idea of touching a live mouse gave me the heebie-jeebies.

We weighed down the lid and managed to go back to sleep. In the morning, Lindsey insisted we set the mouse free outside. We would have preferred a more permanent disposal, but she wanted to witness our setting it free. I am a nature lover, but mice do not make the cut.

We determined that the mouse had likely crept in when our daughter and her friends moved a bunch of her belongings and left our patio door open for a long period. Years passed before we saw signs of another mouse.

Then, after a long cold spell in the winter of 2023, I started hearing rustling in our bedroom at night while I tried to sleep. Was it in the ceiling above me? In the wall? I was not sure, but the thought of a furry little intruder made me shudder. My husband is a heavy sleeper with a habit of sleeping with a pillow over his head to block the sound of my snoring. He rarely heard the night-time prowler.

My most horrifying encounter was one night when I heard rustling in the dark very close to me. I turned on the lamp on my nightstand, and the sound stopped. I kept still and soon heard the noise again. I smacked the side of the nightstand and saw a mouse run from the floor below and through the doorway to our walk-in closet. I still had the glue traps I had purchased after our last run-in with a critter, so I went downstairs, grabbed one, and attempted to place it strategically in the doorway.

I kept the lamp on and tried to fall back to sleep. A while later, I again heard rustling close to my head. I quickly pulled open my nightstand drawer and witnessed that creepy little intruder as it leaped through the air from the drawer, skirted the glue trap, and ran back into the closet. I added a second glue trap to the doorway, that time baited with a tiny piece of grilled cheese scraps. It did the trick; I caught the mouse.

I was stunned that a mouse found its way into my nightstand drawer, but I knew what had enticed it. I had secretly stashed a box of chocolates that provided me with a rare treat when I remembered it was there. I disposed of the last two pieces the night of the invasion; they had been nibbled but not by me. One might think the violation of my drawer and my chocolate stash would deter me from eating chocolate, yet somehow, I overcame the horror.

My husband had been researching insulation options to improve the temperature consistency upstairs. My mousy encounter sealed the deal; we decided to invest in new spray foam insulation. The company we chose could not guarantee the improvement would prevent mice, nor did we expect such a guarantee. But I can attest that even after some incredibly cold nights this past winter, not once did we hear rustling in the attic, the walls or, thank God, in my nightstand drawer.

I hope we never experience a tiny invader again. If we do, I know who to call. Lindsey told me that Tony is the best mouse catcher she has ever known. I am not a cat person, but as long as he is not a chocolate thief, he is welcome in our home.