March 17

Arcy's moon, Boise, ID, March 17, 2010

March 17th marked a year since Arcy left, way back in Idaho.
To honor her memory, I'm sharing a few photos from her life, and a true story about her "hunting" in the house.
I miss my RCA pup, and am so very glad for the memories.

Maroon was definitely one of Arcy's colors.

Our visit to Humboldt, December 2009.  Thank you Kathy!

Cuddling Arcy in Humboldt, before Idaho.

Arcy with her boy.

The girls, Day 2 of our Boise Venture.  Looking sharp in their new coats.

The Great Mouse Hunt

By Emily

One evening, about 8 pm, I was tidying up the kitchen before going to my study to work on school prep for the next day.  As I rearranged tea and coffee containers and wiped the counter, I noticed these tiny black crumbs no bigger than a small ant.  In fact, they looked like little mummy ants.  I called to my husband, “Hey, Pat, we’ve got mice!”

            Our McNab dog, Arcy, had been telling us all week that something was in the house.  Since she can over react to things, we ignored her. But now it was obvious that she had been right all along.

            “Where are the mice, Arcy?” I asked.  She snuffled under the stove while looking up at me and wagging her tail furiously.  Georgia, our terrier, noticed something was going on in the kitchen, and not one to be left out, she trotted in and stuck her nose under the stove, too. 

            Pat and I moved the stove out so I could clean and the dogs could continue their investigations. Sure enough, we found more evidence.  I cleaned. Arcy and Georgia sniffed and snuffed. We pushed the stove back in and I set to work cleaning the kitchen from top to bottom. Seems the mice had been just about everywhere in that kitchen.  How did the little mummified ants get into the utensil container?  And under the microwave which is on top of the refrigerator?   Clearly these mice had rappelling gear or suction cups on their feet.

            Pat set some traps in the kitchen that night. The next evening, there was no new evidence of mice.  However, Arcy said, “The mice are behind the entertainment center…No, wait, they are in the bedroom closet. Oops, now they are back in the kitchen.”  She raced from room to room, “tracking” the mice.  Between you and me, I don’t think she knew where they were, but her persistence paid off, and Pat set a trap in the bedroom closet.

            The next evening, Arcy spent two hours telling me the mouse was in my computer table, right behind the printer. She crawled up into the cabinet and sat on top of my printer. I finally put her outside so I could get my work finished.

            No mouse action for almost a week, and then Arcy practically shouted “The mice are in the closet Right Now!”  She ran ahead as I moved towards the closet. She jumped up and down with anticipation as I opened the door.  “Wow Arcy, you were right. There was a mouse in the closet, and now it is dead.  Good hunter!”  I patted her happy head.  The poor little mouse was killed by the trap. As I looked at its cute face, I thought, “Surely we could live with mice?  Nah, they carry diseases…”

            I thought that was the end of our mouse problem.  Georgia and Arcy spent the next hour running from the now open closet to the kitchen and back again. I ignored them, thinking they were having  a good time, so why nag them to stop  Then there was a flurry of activity by the cat food container, and a tiny gray shape bounced into the bedroom, followed by two gleeful dogs.  “Crash!”  Arcy and Georgia ran smack into the closet door as the mouse darted under it.   I opened the closet door.  Five minutes later, the mouse streaked through he living room, hurtling under the couch.  Georgia squeezed under the couch as far as she could go, which was about mid belly, and lay there, tail wagging.  The mouse darted behind the wood stove, followed by two dogs.  Then back to the couch. Then around the corner and into my study, behind the bookshelf.

            Pat arrived home from work in the midst of this chaos.  I explained the situation, interrupted by the dogs (Yeah, yeah, it’s in there!  We almost caught it!  Can we get it now?  Hurry, hurry!”).  He got his BB gun and followed the dogs into my study.  The mouse ran from the bookshelf to my filing cabinet, back to the bookshelf, behind the sewing machine, over to the recycled paper box, then behind the record cabinet.  Each mouse movement followed by two dogs and two humans, like cars on a toy train connected by string. Finally we all cornered the pint-sized rodent and Pat ended the tiny creature’s life.

            The story continued over the next week as the dogs tried to engage me in frequent discussions about mice. They believed there were more in he house. I figured it was just the scent left over from the previous mice. Then, yesterday morning, I found more itty-bitty black things on the kitchen counters. I tried to convince myself that I had missed them during my previous cleaning.  Arcy looked at me with laughter in her eyes, and said, “No, I TOLD you there were more. Let’s go look!”  With that, she raced off into the bedroom, with Georgia seconds behind. Here we go again!