My Hero--Mighty Hunter

You may remember my struggles with keeping my desk cleared.  A-hem.

It is a mess again.  As usual.

So, I was sitting here at my desk, emailing a friend who is going through a bittersweet time in her life.  My email was so serious, so empathetic, as I tried to encourage her.

When suddenly a MOUSE (shudder)

RAN (gulp) (I would say scurried, for we all know scurry is the verb associated with mice but he was all out running)

ACROSS MY DESK!!!!!

right in front of me

I squealed.  Of course I did.  (You will, however, be glad to know that I did *not* pee my pants. Thankfully I had just used the restroom.)

Yes, I squealed, and then I called in a quavering voice "Deeeestry. . ."

Destry was reading world history, whose stories of mighty warriors of old must have inspired him to immediate action.  He rushed in to see what was wrong and when I pointed a trembling hand at the monitor and whispered "a mouse just ran across my desk and he went that way" he peered down through the hole where the wires connect and saw the mouse cowering in the back.

He lunged down the stairs as he threw "be right back" over his shoulder.  In no time he had returned with his BB gun.

I had retreated across the room where I was perched on my knees on a chair.  Stereotypical, I know, but those scurrying little rodents just have that effect on me.

I wish I had been braver and grabbed my phone to take a picture of Destry, down on one knee, his BB gun propped on one shoulder as he carefully aimed under my desk.  The mouse was just a dark shadow.

Pop! went the little gun.  "Got 'im!" Destry proclaimed.

One shot.  Right in the heart.

MY HERO!

Yes, I realize other moms are posting pictures of their sons and husbands with deer in this season.  They are posting trophy bucks shot for their many-pointed racks.  They are posting with pride thinking of their men's provision of meat for the freezer.

But MY son. . .

My son SAVED my LIFE!