So we had a mouse in our house. I can’t stand it. I’m deathly afraid of mice. Horrified, mortified. That old line about they’re more afraid of you than you are of them is a just a load of hooey. For the most part, seeing a mouse isn’t how you know you have one.
You see the signs, but not the mouse — a few “tracks” on the cabinet beside the washer, dog food missing out of our Beagle Boy Cletus’ bowl. So I set a trap. The old-school kind. I hate those. They’re so hard for me to set.
This time was no different. Three days and the only thing I caught was myself. Same finger — twice. Every time the bait was gone. Judging by the tiny size of the “tracks,” we were dealing with an infant. It was too light to set off the trap.
So I got some glue traps. I get it, the old style ones are more humane but it doesn’t do me any good if I don’t catch the mouse. The glue traps didn’t work, either. Our little intruder wasn’t of the sight unseen mindset. It was pretty intent on doing whatever it wanted, whenever it wanted.
Mice are only supposed to come out at night, when it’s dark and quiet and everyone’s in bed. I’m willing to live and let live. Have a peaceful co-existence. But have a little class.
Not this bugger. He strolled through the house in broad daylight like he owned the place. He came from under the microwave stand to the fridge, around the back and out the other side. Made the long trek along the floor in front of the bar, around the corner and into the living room with me, Dave and the dog right there.
Rather bold. So I set a glue trap in the doorway where the mouse started. On the return trip, it went around the trap. Not good. It’s smart enough to go around glue traps and too light to set off the regular ones. I guess we just have to keep setting them, eventually with all the bait it’s eating, it’ll get heavy enough to set off the trap.
Great plan until the mouse decided to go for another walk through the living room. Cletus was napping on the floor and the mouse was within inches of him.
Cletus is death for a mouse. He’s got nine solitary kills and one assist with a fairy-diddle that got in the house once. It got carried out.
Dave was afraid Cletus might accidentally swallow the mouse. I just wanted it gone. Eventually, the mouse wised up and went back into hiding without waking the sleeping Beagle. Content that the mouse was in the living room somewhere, I busied myself in the kitchen and utility room for a couple of hours. With no sightings for a while, I even went crazy and did some exercises along with my DVD on the computer.
Feeling very accomplished, I did a little TV watching and caught a glimpse of the mouse walking out from under the computer desk, where I had just been on the floor exercising — OMG! My reaction alerted the dog finally and a well-rested Cletus and the mouse locked eyes and it shot under the end table by Dave’s chair. Cletus had it “treed” there for a bit before it raced under the little dresser near the kitchen doorway.
While Cletus tended to that, I snuck in the kitchen and put a glue trap on the floor in the 4-inch gap between the stove and the counter. The mouse skittered around the water cooler, behind the stove and out through that gap — almost. Let’s just say the little bugger really “stuck the landing.”
Fortunately, Cletus couldn’t get his face in that little gap. Unfortunately, this is way above my pay grade. I can’t do anything with that. So, I ran upstairs and woke Dave, which was like slapping a bear in the nose. He grabbed the tongs and tossed the mouse, trap and all, out the back door.
The empty trap was lying on the porch in the morning. Even if the mouse managed to wiggle off, I bet it won’t ever set foot in my house again. Don’t do it Ricky, you will get carried out — again.
