You know. Dr Seuss's ABCs. The one that you memorized when you were a kid because the rhymes were fun and the pictures fanciful and your imagination went wild.
Big M....Little m....What begins with M?
Many mumbling MICE.
Making midnight music in the moonlight.
Mighty nice!
Unless they are making midnight music in your kitchen, that is. Dr. Seuss forgot to MENTION that. (Mention for M, get it?!)
So last week, my refrigerator died. It did that whilst I was not at home. It stunk up the house by the time I returned, so after emptying the contents into the trash, out it went to sit on the porch until I get it cleaned and rid of the electronics. Then it shall be used, placed on it's back for containing the grain which I feed my horses. I needed something impenetrable by the rodent population and I think this will be it.
There was a RAT hole under the fridge. GROSS and SHUDDERS! But at least I know where these varments are getting in now. Plugged that hole and cleaned. And cleaned. And cleaned some more. Of course my kitchen, after working 7 full months at a 12 to 18 hour a day job, 7 days a week, looked like a bomb had exploded in it. Quite forgotten until I ran out of forks or glasses and then begrudgingly, I would wash dishes. I think the only thing that got done on a regular basis was taking the trash out, but in reality, that did little to improve the quality of cleanliness so missing in my little home. No wonder he felt like he could move in and stay awhile.
But mind you, this was not that CUTE rat with the teddy bear that surfs the internet. This was an ugly pack rat that kept stealing my forks, ( I KNEW I hadn't used that many forks!), the lids to my jars, my avocados if I left them on the counter. He even moved plastic storage containers in the bottom cabinet. He left evidence in that bottom cabinet as well as under that dead fridge. No wonder my cats sit in front of the fridge and stare at it all day.
Once I got everything cleaned and plugged, I was pretty pleased. But upon rising the next morning, there it was. Mouse doodoos. ON MY COUNTER.
Now I love Beatrix Potter and all her fanciful characters, but this is no Hunka Munka sweeping clean with a tiny broom! This is a messy little creature that has no consideration for anyone's property. I don't think I would mind a Beatrix Potter mouse, but noooooo.....I get the unemployed, unmotivated, Joe's apartment type visitor who simply doesn't want to leave. My cats are useless wienies.
It is a horror movie right there. In your own kitchen.
I find this little creature with his/her backside glued to the trap and the front end desperately pulling on the counter and trying to run with the trap hanging on its bombasitty. Poor thing! So here I am in my PJs in freezing weather, with a screaming mousie butt glued to a sticky trap in one hand and a bottle of olive oil in the other, standing outside in my bare feet and no coat. Pouring olive oil on the trap to disengage that poor screaming mousie from this awful ordeal!
It wouldn't come off. Even with a shake. And I might have a tender heart, but it only goes so far. Especially when I am standing barefoot in 28* weather, with no coat on, wind blowing through my PJs and I am shivering worse than Jack in Titanic. So I place the trap by the goat and pig barn with an oily mousie and leave it there. If it works, fine. The little guy is saved. If not, then at least I will not likely hear mousie screams all night long.
In the morning, after cleaning and bleaching and cleaning and bleaching the counter top, I skip outside to find that little guy was gone. I can only assume that he got off the trap. If something had tried to EAT him, that sticky trap would be glued to someones nose and would not be there.
Two nights later? THERE IS MOUSE DOODOO ON MY COUNTER!!! Heeeee's baaack!!! And to beat all, the peanut butter is gone from the sticky traps. That little guy was probably so oily he just slickly walked across all of those traps and had a feast.
I should have just....I can't even bring myself to say it. The only thing I kill easily are flies.
I loaded more traps. Both snappy and sticky. I don't care HOW I get rid of it, but it will be gotten rid of. I even looked on YouTube and found THIS idea.....
This person left the bottom dry and let the mousies he caught go. All I can say is, "Been there! Done that!" And I am not doing that again. I am filling my bucket half full of water and hope that little mouse is not wearing a life jacket. Cruel and unusual punishment, I know. But better than having them on your counter and leaving their evidence behind.
I can't believe I am doing this. Farm girl be danged. I just hate killing things if I don't have to. I will probably have nightmares for YEARS remembering that terrified little mouse with his buttinski stuck to that glue board. Best to just do him in and get it over with.
Who am I trying to convince? If I find him drowning, I will most likely let him go again. I hope he gets dead real quick.
Beatrix Potter and Dr. Seuss are rolling in their graves right now. I am just SURE of it.
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