After living with many different rodent friends and having the pleasure of catching somewhere around ten of them throughout our married lives, I was extremely pleased to move into a new house that was raccoon-, rodent-, ladybug-, spider-, and fly-free.
This house was a haven, a safe place. We had a year without any spider incidents, and the flies were reduced to the average lonely little housefly here and there.
But then... then there was this noise. This scratching. This unwelcome little intruder under the cupboards. We didn't see him (her? it?), but we didn't need to. Joey brought home a trap, pushed the vent over and baited the trap with irresistible peanut butter.
One day later, he opened it up, and, sure enough, a fat little field mouse had bought the lie.
That is not the most surprising part of this tale, however.
Joey reset the trap and closed up the vent. We sat down to watch the Avengers (which, as you all know, needs to be heavy on the volume to get the full experience) and
It was only about half an hour later when we heard the "SNAP" followed by the sound of something in the throes of death. Joey opened it up, and, sure enough, another (less-fat) field mouse was slain.
Joey repeated this a third time. And, again, within half an hour we heard the telltale sounds.
YOU GUYS. THERE WERE THREE MICE IN MY HOUSE. (I am trying really hard not to think of how much they resembled the three mice in Cinderella. I feel like the bringer of death to children's fairy tales.)
As you might understand, I couldn't sleep that well that night. I dreamt about the cats I wished I had and the millions of mice scampering through our walls. The next morning, however, there were no signs of tampering with the traps, and there hasn't been any since. Joey got under the trailer and figured out how they were getting in and put an end to it. He put out mouse poison and issued them a GAME OVER.
And now I am really, really hoping that this is the end of this saga.
RIP, Jaq, Gus, & Bruno.
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