It's the LITTLE THINGS that make BIG TROUBLE!

The tractor is a mighty beast, having three rows of sharp blades to make short work of even the toughest grass and weeds. While it was not being used, it had been parked under a tree near the driveway. At night, Patches would pay special attention to the lid that covered the blades, sniffing and wagging and sniffing some more. His attention nearly paralleled his interest in his favorite Marro BonesŪ treats. But when our walk time was over, I summoned him back inside as usual, not thinking anything more about his behavior or the possible reasons for it.

MISTAKE! Not four nights ago on one of our walks, Patches came out of the garage holding something in his mouth. I couldn't see what it was at first, so I gave my usual command "drop" to have him release it. It was a baby mouse, no bigger than my pinky and half as long. Clearly the poor thing had breathed its last, and I had to dispose of it. That made me sad, since it was just starting its life as a mouse and there was nothing I could have done for it. Although I had to praise Patches for being a "brave hunter", I hoped that he wouldn't discover any more prey. When I related this story to my husband, his praise for Patches was long and loud: "Such a good boy", and "what a great hunter". So Master Mouser went on to earn the praises of his owners, and I paid closer attention to his sniffing.

Next to the garage were the bricks from the old front walk. When I had it paved, I had just told the workers to pile the bricks next to the house over there. As the summer passed, great bunches of thistles grew out of the brick pile attracting numerous bees. Wanting to avoid being stung, I waited to pull them out and move the bricks to a different location where they could become a rough walkway to the water faucet. During this time our resident chipmunk made them his new home, safe from the ever-curious dogs. Then last Friday I began moving them, and what should appear but a small dark gray mouse. It quickly scurried back into its home in the bricks. Patches had been sniffing that pile, but since a falling brick would crush a little paw, I shooed him away. All these events should have prepared me for what my husband would discover yesterday when he set out to mow.

At first the day was delightful. The weather was perfect, being together outside was perfect, and even the bees had taken the day off. Then my husband motioned to me. The lower branches of our many trees were hitting him in the face, and would I go along the driveway with my lopper and cut them off? Of course! Glad to help! And then he pulled onto the grass and said that he had meant to add lubricant to the machinery inside. He was reminded of this as he mowed and heard a persistent screechy noise from the machine, like our old clothes dryer when the belts and bearings were failing. But what he saw when he flipped the lid caused him to flip HIS lid: NESTS! TWO HUGE MOUSE NESTS! They were blocking the motion of the parts and interfering with the mowing. Clearly something had to be done, so he began taking the nests out, grabbing them with his hands and throwing them on the driveway. That was the easy part. Somehow the belts inside the mower that connected round circular things that looked like the pistons of a car engine had become stretched and now hung limp. To go out for replacements would be easier if they were removed altogether. This involved taking out the entire round thing on which they were stretched. Tools were required.

A large bolt in the center of the circular gizmo should do it. To loosen it required a ratchet wrench, but that was unfortunately missing from the tool box. A regular wrench would have to do, and after what seemed like hours, the bolt came out. HOORAY! The circular thing could now be lifted out! Or could it? Months of summer grass accumulation coupled with mouse accumulation had it stuck tight. Spraying WD40 on it didn't help. Hitting it with a sledge hammer didn't help. Using a huge pry bar didn't help. That merely broke off chips of the circular piece and sent them flying across the driveway. We had already put the dogs inside, so only my husband and I could be hurt. He shouted at me to "stay back" as he tried in vane to separate the circular part from its base. By now it was 5:00 and any stores would be closing. A totally dirty, hot, and sweaty man admitted his shortcomings and had a cold drink to sit, relax, and plan his next attack.