Stuart Little Is Dead -- and Under My Fridge

NOTE: Stop by my other blog, Chopsticks and String , for a look at the most recent book I've finished, "The Elegance of the Hedgehog."

As I prepare this post, we still have our share of white-stuff, although the rich blue sky and warm sun is quickly melting our snow. By the time this is posted, it may be all gone. (NOTE: As of today, most ALL of the snow is gone! Hooray!)

Nonetheless, I couldn't resist this bit of color outside Rick's office window a couple of weeks ago.

Stuart Little died under my refrigerator last week. I tried to get him out. First I tried to vacuum him out, which was great for the vents; not for Stuart. He was stuck on the corner, so I covered a clothespin and pushed it under, hoping to scooch him out the other side. He wouldn't budge. Then I went in the other way. Same deal. I think he has a wedgie. As in "My head is wedged into the refrigerator base."

It isn't that I don't adore mice. In fact, I only dislike them when they move -- fast -- and startle me. Otherwise, I don't throw up my hands and shriek.

In fact, when Gypsy captured one of Stu's distant relatives last summer (and dropped him upon my command), Stu2 scampered through the the cottage until Gyp and I cornered him under a waste basket, and I took him outside, walked him six blocks away, and let him go in the woods.

You see, thinking of E.B. White's endearing mouse who slept in a matchbox usually makes me smile, especially when I recall Garth Williams' amazing illustrations.

But I don't like it when they smell. And Stuart has gone through a particularly stinky period. I mean, really, seriously, incredibly, mind-blowingly stinky.

You may wonder why I don't move the fridge and remove Stuart. Well, thanks to the scan I had (where you have to drink 48 ounces of this white liquid over an hour that they have the nerve to call a "Berry Smoothie"), I just found out I have a hernia. Pushing heavy objects is not encouraged. (Note: Since I first prepped this a week ago, I got back my results; no hernia to prevent contact with heavy objects! Hooray!)

I tried covering up the smell with a lovely Trapp cucumber spray. It does wonders in the bathroom.

However, in the kitchen the result was neither fragrant cucumbers or Stinky Stuart, but a rather nauseating mixture of the two.

I'm pleased to say that either Stuart is fading or I'm becoming immune. By the time this post goes up, I'll no doubt forget he was under the fridge.

Till cleaning day.

(Update: Stuart has faded; it's like he was never there! This is good news, because believe me, everyone knew...)