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MONDAY, SEPTEMBER 14, 2009
This was the original story last year...they are back
I had a sneaking suspicion there was a mouse in my house. My dogs had been fairly skittish off and on and my daughter had spotted one peeking out from below our deck out back. My fears were confirmed when I found some mouse poop behind the trash can under the sink. Yuck.
I promptly headed to the store for some mousetraps. I purchased some fancy traps that were advertised as "Black Cats". Safe and effective. Safe for whom? And, if my neighbor's cat had been effective in the first place I wouldn't be in this pickle. I was a bit skeptical, so along with the Black Cats, I purchased 2 good old fashioned wooden traps. The kind that make you tense just trying to set them and make you wince as you gently lay them on the ground.
I placed one fancy "Black Cat" trap outside, one behind the trash and the back-up, cheese loaded, old school trap beside it and felt prepared. With the traps in place, I turned down the lights last night and headed to my room to watch a little television.
Less than 20 minutes later, my dogs began going nuts out in the kitchen. I sent Jeremy out to investigate and he quickly summoned me to the kitchen. "I think you caught your mouse." It is funny how he attached ownership of this mouse to me. It is probably because I was so bent on catching it and was taking the invasion very personal. I am totally fine with mice living OUTSIDE where they belong. But, once you invade my home, just know that I will win. However, I had no idea how far off my eventual victory was.
Standing in the kitchen, it was clear that the mouse was caught but, not dead. Squeaks and the clanking sound of the metal from the wooden trap was an early indicator that this mouse was up for a fight. So, I let it fight for a few minutes thinking it would surely end quick. Well, I was wrong. And, with my adrenaline through the roof at this point and the ick factor in full force, Jeremy and I realized we needed to take action.
So, Jeremy headed out to the garage and retrieved a broom and a box. His plan: sweep the mouse into the box and let it die outside and out of earshot. He then hands ME the broom and gives me the go ahead. And, like most normal women I batted and swatted and swept that mouse into the box while myself squealing and hopping and freaking out. It was classic late night drama at its best.
With the mouse in the box and hopefully on the brink of death, we headed out to the trash bin. But, after putting it in the trash and hearing it's flopping around suddenly amplified by the enclosed space; Jeremy decides that it is not only annoying it is also unsafe. After all, this is a super mouse and everyone knows a mouse can flatten itself to the size of a quarter or something like that. So, he takes the boxed mouse out of the trash and out front to die in the driveway. End of story? End of mouse?
As I head to spin at 5:30 am this morning, I peek in the box and the mouse is still. Since I am in a hurry I decide to just throw it away when I get back. Well, I came home with 2 coffees in my hands and a list of things to do before I take the kids to school and head to work so, I assign Jeremy the disposal of the mouse duty. He says he will get to it in a minute. (lots of football re-caps to go over, I am sure)
As I leave for work at 8:20, I hear the mouse flopping around in the box. You have got to be joking me! Incredulous, I run back in the house and tell Jeremy to drown it before I get back home. When I come home an hour later, I peek in the box and yes, the mouse is still there but, now it is not moving. So, even though he hadn't drown it yet, I felt relieved that is was finally dead.
Thirty minutes ago, I stepped outside to let my dogs run around and finally dispose of the vermin. And, believe it or not it was still alive! I just cannot tell you how much I am freaking out at this point. On one hand, I feel kinda bad for the poor thing. On the other hand, what is a girl to do? So, I take the drowning of the mouse into my own hands.
I fill the bucket and turning my head, I dump the mouse into the water and without looking put the box on top. Chewie (my dog) and I stand there for a few moments and I am trying to calm down. Dumping a mouse into a bucket is a bit overwhelming. As we are standing there, Chewie's ears perk up and I seriously hear this mouse start to cry. (well, it was technically squeaking but, at this point I am about to cry so we might as well cry together) At this point I am fairly confident that I am being punked by this mouse.
I carefully lift the box off the bucket and shockingly this doggone, super mouse is using the trap as a flotation device! Oh my Lord! I am thinking this can't last long so, I put the box back on top of the bucket and honestly pray it ends quick.
Wouldn't you know that I not only trapped the sturdiest mouse in the world but, it is also an excellent doggie paddler. It would do a few barrel rolls on the trap and land right side up every time. Stressed out and needing a little help, I called my mom to tell her of the darma. After laughing, she suggested the rock which now sits on the head of the mouse in the bottom of the bucket. Alas, I won.
But, I am not really happy about it. In fact, I do feel kind of bad. But, the reality of the situation is that mice don't belong in the house and in my house we play by the rules. As an addendum for all of you fellow animal lover/PETA people out there, I am sure there were other options. But, at this point I don't really care. If you had a mouse in your house you would probably do the same.
I promptly headed to the store for some mousetraps. I purchased some fancy traps that were advertised as "Black Cats". Safe and effective. Safe for whom? And, if my neighbor's cat had been effective in the first place I wouldn't be in this pickle. I was a bit skeptical, so along with the Black Cats, I purchased 2 good old fashioned wooden traps. The kind that make you tense just trying to set them and make you wince as you gently lay them on the ground.
I placed one fancy "Black Cat" trap outside, one behind the trash and the back-up, cheese loaded, old school trap beside it and felt prepared. With the traps in place, I turned down the lights last night and headed to my room to watch a little television.
Less than 20 minutes later, my dogs began going nuts out in the kitchen. I sent Jeremy out to investigate and he quickly summoned me to the kitchen. "I think you caught your mouse." It is funny how he attached ownership of this mouse to me. It is probably because I was so bent on catching it and was taking the invasion very personal. I am totally fine with mice living OUTSIDE where they belong. But, once you invade my home, just know that I will win. However, I had no idea how far off my eventual victory was.
Standing in the kitchen, it was clear that the mouse was caught but, not dead. Squeaks and the clanking sound of the metal from the wooden trap was an early indicator that this mouse was up for a fight. So, I let it fight for a few minutes thinking it would surely end quick. Well, I was wrong. And, with my adrenaline through the roof at this point and the ick factor in full force, Jeremy and I realized we needed to take action.
So, Jeremy headed out to the garage and retrieved a broom and a box. His plan: sweep the mouse into the box and let it die outside and out of earshot. He then hands ME the broom and gives me the go ahead. And, like most normal women I batted and swatted and swept that mouse into the box while myself squealing and hopping and freaking out. It was classic late night drama at its best.
With the mouse in the box and hopefully on the brink of death, we headed out to the trash bin. But, after putting it in the trash and hearing it's flopping around suddenly amplified by the enclosed space; Jeremy decides that it is not only annoying it is also unsafe. After all, this is a super mouse and everyone knows a mouse can flatten itself to the size of a quarter or something like that. So, he takes the boxed mouse out of the trash and out front to die in the driveway. End of story? End of mouse?
As I head to spin at 5:30 am this morning, I peek in the box and the mouse is still. Since I am in a hurry I decide to just throw it away when I get back. Well, I came home with 2 coffees in my hands and a list of things to do before I take the kids to school and head to work so, I assign Jeremy the disposal of the mouse duty. He says he will get to it in a minute. (lots of football re-caps to go over, I am sure)
As I leave for work at 8:20, I hear the mouse flopping around in the box. You have got to be joking me! Incredulous, I run back in the house and tell Jeremy to drown it before I get back home. When I come home an hour later, I peek in the box and yes, the mouse is still there but, now it is not moving. So, even though he hadn't drown it yet, I felt relieved that is was finally dead.
Thirty minutes ago, I stepped outside to let my dogs run around and finally dispose of the vermin. And, believe it or not it was still alive! I just cannot tell you how much I am freaking out at this point. On one hand, I feel kinda bad for the poor thing. On the other hand, what is a girl to do? So, I take the drowning of the mouse into my own hands.
I fill the bucket and turning my head, I dump the mouse into the water and without looking put the box on top. Chewie (my dog) and I stand there for a few moments and I am trying to calm down. Dumping a mouse into a bucket is a bit overwhelming. As we are standing there, Chewie's ears perk up and I seriously hear this mouse start to cry. (well, it was technically squeaking but, at this point I am about to cry so we might as well cry together) At this point I am fairly confident that I am being punked by this mouse.
I carefully lift the box off the bucket and shockingly this doggone, super mouse is using the trap as a flotation device! Oh my Lord! I am thinking this can't last long so, I put the box back on top of the bucket and honestly pray it ends quick.
Wouldn't you know that I not only trapped the sturdiest mouse in the world but, it is also an excellent doggie paddler. It would do a few barrel rolls on the trap and land right side up every time. Stressed out and needing a little help, I called my mom to tell her of the darma. After laughing, she suggested the rock which now sits on the head of the mouse in the bottom of the bucket. Alas, I won.
But, I am not really happy about it. In fact, I do feel kind of bad. But, the reality of the situation is that mice don't belong in the house and in my house we play by the rules. As an addendum for all of you fellow animal lover/PETA people out there, I am sure there were other options. But, at this point I don't really care. If you had a mouse in your house you would probably do the same.
