hey say seeing is believing and as a life-long skeptic, I wholeheartedly agree. Sure, there are some things you accept by faith but for the most part, I’m a doubting Thomas. I need to lay eyes on it before I will believe it.

I guess part of my skepticism comes from my background as a journalist. I have people stroll into my office all the time and swear they know something for a fact when they are actually repeating rumor. They’ll look you in the eye and say they know something for 100 percent sure. However, once pushed for details, you find that they heard it from a second cousin who heard it from a friend who heard it at the beauty shop from the aunt of their hairstylist.

That’s why when my mom began talking about a mouse in her house, I treated it with a grain of salt. I mean, I put out mouse bait since there was obviously a chance mice had moved in. However, when mom kept talking about this one specific mouse that seemed to be messing with her, I started kind of worrying. Mom is 85 and has a sharp mind. She still works full-time at the teacher center, walking up the ramp with her walker every morning. But, her insistence of a mouse messing with her was getting me worried since no one else had seen this supposed mouse. This went on for weeks and was the topic of many conversations.

“You’ve seen it, haven’t you Henry,” mom maintained, asking my 12-year-old son for verification.

“Well …” he resisted, his hesitancy telling me he hadn’t actually seen the mouse.

“I KNOW what I saw,” mom narrowed her eyes, seeing that I was less than convinced.

Being a wisecracker, I couldn’t resist. “Does this mouse … talk to you?” I grinned.

Mom just growled at my scoffing. “You’ll see,” she vowed. “It’s here and it’s real.”

“Maybe it’s an invisible mouse only you can see,” I pressed.

“I am NOT losing my mind,” mom insisted as she went to her refrigerator and pulled out a bottle of vitamins. She unscrewed the top and pulled out one of them, displaying it like O.J. displayed the glove that did not fit.

“What do you think this is then, smart guy?” she pushed the half-eaten gummy under my nose.

“Um, a half-eaten vitamin?” I asked.

“The mouse has been chewing on it,” she scowled. “I saved it as proof.”

I shook my head. “So you’re telling me that the mouse got into your fridge, unscrewed the bottle and ate part of a vitamin?”

“No, silly,” she put the top back on the bottle. “I just now put the bottle in the fridge.”

“Oh, that makes more sense,” I countered. “You’re just saying the mouse knows how to open a bottle and likes vitamins. Maybe it’s Mighty Mouse.”

Mom growled again, my sense of humor not appreciated.

“Hey dad,” Henry called out from behind me.

“Not now son,” I replied. “I want to hear more about this magical mouse.”

“What?” I said, walking over to the cabinet where Henry was standing.

“It’s the mouse,” Henry pointed to the little furry creature. He was right. Mom wasn’t seeing things after all.

“HA!” Mom crowed. “Now do you believe me?”

Seeing is believing. “You’re right,” I agreed as I made a quick lunge at the critter that escaped my grasp and made a bee-line for freedom. “But there’s no way it opened your vitamin bottle.”

“Or did it?” Mom cocked her head. “Until just now the mouse didn’t exist.”

Anyway, as I’m writing this column the mouse is still in the house. I plan to capture rather than squish it. Hey, mom was right about the mouse existing. Maybe she’s right about it opening the bottle.

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