Here’s an update for those of you who follow the animal saga that goes on around here. I caught one mouse, but now another one has come to take his place.
He makes so much noise rattling around in the kitchen. Seriously, I swear that he is dismantling the refrigerator, but I just can’t see it because he’s doing his work from the inside out. I think I hear every single one of his disgusting little footfalls because I don’t work very well with background noise, and now that school is back in session, there have been plenty of quiet nights around here as I grade papers or do lesson planning. I can count on him coming out of hiding between 8:30 and 10 to send my blood pressure through the roof.
The other night though, the mouse made his first appearance. He came scrambling out of the kitchen and ran behind the love seat. I don’t generally sit on the love seat, but I still considered this an affront to my territory that was even more serious than fridge dismantling. After all, I sit near the loveseat.
I decided that more traps were in order. As I was getting them out from under the kitchen sink, I found mouse droppings. This was not an utter shock since this is where I found evidence of a mouse a few years ago when I had a problem, but it’s still disgusting. I don’t care if there are just trash bags and dish soap and mouse traps under there. That is still gross. I found a mouse dropping in the bottom of a narrow little box no wider than a thin paperback book. Mouse, what are you doing? Is that like your little under the sink privy? Plus, I think for the mouse to climb around in the same cabinet where the traps are stored is sheer mockery. He must sit under the edge of the fridge and watch the vein in my forehead throb.
It got worse. I found mouse droppings on the throw pillows. Now, the throw pillows are not kept on my couches because the dog would consider them his own personal pillows, so I keep them stacked beside the couch. That’s right. The couch where I do sit. And, the droppings are on the top pillow. Yes, the top pillow. To put that into context, I believe his next step is onto the couch. That is not ok. One of us will die if that happens. As a matter of fact, after I write this, I’m moving the throw pillows.
And, it got even worse. I had to set the mouse traps. I am so inept at such mechanical feats. I shot one at the kitchen floor and then shot one into the back of the kitchen cabinet, peanut butter and all. I misunderstood where to put the bait, so after I had peanut butter smeared in all sorts of non-nonsensical places on one of the traps, I flung it into the garbage can.
And, the traps have sat for two days. Empty.
Tonight, the mouse is just adding insult to injury. I heard him climb into the dog food bowl. Deogi lifted his head in mild curiosity off the loveseat (he’s not afraid to sit there nor has he ever heard how mice wiped out 30 – 60% of the European population by spreading bubonic plague). But, I looked around for something to throw at the mouse. Finding a binder on the end table, I stepped from the couch onto the loveseat (not the floor – I’m in my bare feet), over the dog, and onto the arm of the loveseat. From this vantage point, I could see inside the dog food bowl. No mouse. Darn it. I was ready to fling the binder at him too even if the clatter probably would bring the neighbor running and I’d have to burn up the binder with everything inside it after it killed the mouse. I know to expect success from this strategy was a long shot, but I did almost hit that possum with the water filled two liter bottle that one time…Anger improves my aim.
My next plan is to put on the cowboy boots sitting by the couch after I shake them out to be sure there is no mouse in them. (and, yes, there are cowboy boots by the couch, and yes, that does mean that I need to clean, which is precisely why I’m so mad about the pillows. I don’t even have time for normal cleaning.)
Anyway, I’m going to put on these boots, and I’m going to get some dog food. This mouse has proved remarkably resistant to peanut butter — further proof of his diabolical nature, hating peanut butter is unnatural. And, if he wants dog food, I’m going to give him dog food, right in the middle of the traps.
Mouse, you’ve invaded my space. The fear of you makes me jump on furniture at the merest whisper of a paper shifting. We cannot go on this way.
P.S. I thought I’d just throw in the bubonic plague for dramatic, humorous effect since I was under the impression it had been eradicated. I should not have looked it up on Wikipedia. It has not been eradicated. I’m going to go get that dog food now.