I am a hater. I hate mice. Or as the cat Jinx used to say on the cartoon, “I hate meeces to pieces!”
I have an unreasonable fear of mice, attributing them with super hero cunning and ability. Although I don’t believe they can fly, I do imagine they’re quite good jumpers and climbers and can scale anything they put their verministic little minds to.
In the last house we lived in, I remember seeing a mouse in the basement one morning as I went down to either wake my son up, or throw a load of clothes in the washer. I scrambled back up the stairs and did NOT want to go back down there. I couldn’t think of any reason good enough to make me. Until it became evident my oldest son was not going back down there either to get his clothes and dress for school. He was in kindergarten or first grade at the time. As I was mulling over the possibility of calling his school and explaining there was a family emergency and he wouldn’t be able to attend, my middle son who was 3 at the time, grabbed a small log, which was part of a logging truck set they had to play with and wielding it like a club announced he would go down there and kill the mouse. Put to shame by a 3 year old and not wanting him to actually try killing the mouse and getting bit, I had to follow him down the stairs where I quickly grabbed the clothes, the 3 year old, and scampered back up the stairs to stay until hubby came home. I don’t remember too many, if any more mice incidents in that house.
Our present house is located in the middle of Mice Country. We live surrounded by corn fields and while the mice are content to stay there and eat during the summer, come fall and cooler temperatures and they’re booking rooms in my bed and breakfast. The first few years we were living in the house, we didn’t really have a mouse problem. Then one year it seemed like they figured out how to get in and get in they did! One Thanksgiving weekend, we had a house full of kids home for the holiday and I was up late either cleaning up, or maybe even getting some quiet time for myself. Hubby had gone to bed earlier than me and as was his habit, he left the light on and was sleeping soundly. I opened the door, glanced at the bed and shrieked. Here was hubby sleeping soundly on his side of the bed while a dirty mouse scampered around my pillow close to hubby’s head. Hubby woke up, the mouse ran and I stood there shaking. So hubby gets up, thinks the mouse ran into the closet and goes in looking for it. Can’t find it, stuffs a towel under the door and lays back down on the bed ready to go to sleep again. Meanwhile, there is no way you’re going to convince me to sleep there. So I head out to the couch where I spent the rest of the night scared to fall asleep and thinking about how the tiny critter could probably make his way out to the living room, and if he can climb a bed, he can climb a couch. Irrational. Yes. But that is how I get with mice. They eventually caught that one.
Along came another one to take his place. Another night after turning out all the lights and heading to bed, I remembered I needed something from my purse which I leave in the kitchen. I headed back out there, barefoot, using only the light from the bedroom to see where I was going and as I was grabbing what I needed out of my purse, I hear a scurrying noise close to my feet. I whip the light on and see a furry brown ball go running down the hall and into my craft room. My craft room!!! Of all the places. There is so much junk in there and hundreds of places for a mouse to hide. Hubby did finally catch him too (I’m sure they’re all male – don’t ask me how that’s possible) but not before he got into a drawer with my vellum paper and peed on it. Another reason to hate them. They obviously don’t have their priorities in line and don’t value a good piece of vellum.
Another time we were sure there were mice in the attic and hubby threw some poison up there. Don’t EVER do that!! The mice eat the poison and die. In your walls.
Wanna know what the worst smell in the world is?
Yep! Dead mouse. It must have crawled down in the wall of the master bath and for a good 3 – 6 months my bathroom stunk like dead mouse. Gah!
I finally told hubby, “Either you take care of the mouse problem or I’m moving. I’m not living with mice anymore.” So he got busy and started sleuthing. He’d done just about everything he could before to mouse proof the house because, well, “Happy Wife, Happy Life.” This time he looked a little harder and found a place that it appeared they were operating an underground vermin railroad. Much like the underground network for slaves. He stopped up that hole and we haven’t had any in the house since. Well, I take that back. There have been a few in the attic but he’s caught those with traps. No more poison. They also still manage to get in the garage and as hubby was leaving for work this morning, I could hear him moving things and banging stuff around in the garage. Since I didn’t want to risk opening the door, I waited until he was on the road and called him. He confirmed there is a mouse in the garage and he wasn’t able to catch him.
I went out a couple hours later, forgetting all about the mouse, until I was out there standing in my flip flops getting some meat out of the freezer and then thinking, “Eek!! My toes!” I made as much noise as I could and ran back into the house, worrying he would sneak in the door as I opened it.
So the next time you see one of those “cute little mouse” drawings or cartoons, stuffed toy, etc… remember they have super powers.