Of Mice and Me

We have a mouse. Had, I should say. May still. You know mice. They're like cockroaches. If you see one, you have many. We knew they were around. Once, we found a large bag of oatmeal in the closet had a little whole chewed in it. A mouse was having breakfast. I named him Hermy Mousekowitz. Michelle wasn't amused. We put the oatmeal into plastic bins, located the hole the mouse was using to get into the closet, and stopped it up. End of round one.

Then, the other morning, we found mouse turds in the kitchen. On the floor. On the counter. On the stove! Time to get serious. We cleaned and disinfected the counter, then we borrowed my sister-in-law's cat, Nonny. (Hey, I didn't name it. If it had been me, that cat would be called something like Jezebel or Delilah!) Two days later, more mouse turds on the counter. Only one problem with Nonny - she's so fat and so lazy that she can't jump up on the counter to get a mouse if it's there. The mice probably sat up there laughing at her and tossing crumbs in her face, while she lay on the floor like a sack of potatoes. End of round two.

Now, it was time to take the gloves off. We bought mouse traps. Not those touchy-feely let's-not-hurt-the-poor-darlings live traps either. We got the good old-fashioned, snap your fingers mouse traps, just like you see in all of the old cartoons. Last night, I strategically placed three mouse traps on the counters and baited each one with a little peanut butter. At ten o'clock last night, we went to bed. But I was restless. I'd been working on my novel, and I couldn't shut my mind down. So, at 10:45 I got up to get a glass of warm milk. (You heard me. Warm milk. It really does work.) When I turned on the kitchen light, I saw it. Lying on the counter, dead as a doornail. Mus musculus domesticus, requiem in pace. It had gone for the peanut butter and SNAP! It shuffled off this mortal coil. In short, it was an ex-mouse. End of round three.

Now, of course, I had to do the husbandly duty - remove all evidence of the slaughter before the Misses comes out and finds it and flies into tears of sympathy for the poor departed rodent. I double bagged mouse, trap and all, making sure to tie both bags very well, and stuffed it into the garbage can. Then I cleaned and disinfected the counter and placed another trap in the same spot. You never know - it might have siblings. After that, I enjoyed my warm milk, went back to bed, and fell asleep with the knowledge that my face was probably printed on ever wanted poster in Mouseville. WANTED! Public Enemy Number One, for Crimes Against Mousedom. When I got up this morning to get ready for work, though, there were no more corpses to deal with, and no further evidence of midnight visitors. Looks like we've won the mouse war...for now.