"911. State your emergency, please."

"I think there is someone in my house." I whispered under my sheets clutching my husband's hand. After watching many horror flicks throughout my life  I was well schooled in the art of whispering while on the phone, you know, to not arouse any suspicion in the burglarer murder religious cult leader.

"What is going on in your house Ma'am?"

"I hear noises. Scratching. Pounding. Shuffling... noises."

"Where are they coming from?"

"The. Basement."

"The basement?"

"Yes. The noises are coming from the basement because someone IS IN MY HOUSE in the middle of the freaking night."  I raised my voice. "My husband hears the noises too." I spoke for my husband who might or might not have heard the same noises in order to stress the importance and realness of the situation.

"Okay. You are at 123 Main Street in Amishville?"

"Yes."

"Stand on the line. We are sending over an officer."

I covered the phone with my hand, poked my head through my sheets and (again) whispered to my husband, "Check on the kids" thinking that this sounded exactly like the beginning of the Elizabeth Smart case.  As he carefully crept across the hallway the noises suddenly stopped. The intruder knew we were awake! Panic mode struck. Hee, hee, hoo.  Hee, hee, hoo... I breathed under the covers where obviously no one could find me.

"Okay. I hear a car pulling up."

Together armed with one plastic pink flashlight, we tip toed down the stairs waking up the house one light switch at a time meeting the police officer at the door. He instructed us to stay in the well lit kitchen while he investigated the basement.

"I found something." His voice echoed up the stairs.

"See?" I elbowed my husband.

"There is a cracked plastic Easter egg at the bottom of the stairs. Was it there before?"

The diligent officer although smiling, continued around the house checking each window, opening each closet the horror of someone peeking into my disheveled linen closet! and circling the outside of the house looking for footprints in the grass sweating with morning dew.

I pressed my ear against the window trying to catch the conversation between the officer and my husband outside. Giggle. Giggle. Shuffle. Heh. They returned together bursting with pride like best friends reunited exclaiming, "We found the intruder." They led me to the temperature control thingy hanging in the dinning room and dismantled it. My husband poked his hand through the wall as the officer shined his light into it.

"Ma'am. You have mice living in your walls. The air outside in Amishville has changed and they are finding a place for the winter."

"Really?"

"Really."

To my defense. The officer said I was not the first person this season to place a call regarding the epidemic of country mice finding comfort in suburban walls. Apparently the noise of mice scurrying through the vents echos throughout the house and can cause strange noises.  Consider this yet another Public Service Announcement made by yours truly.