Oh yeah, Mouse Nation. It is ON! I do not care how darned cute your little mammalian ears and silvery whiskers are. Your obsidian bead eyes and adorable little mouse hands do not excuse you from invading my house. It is a game to sneak into the middle of the room to stare at me when I am inert on the couch watching John Stewart at 1 am every morning. I shout at your lone scout and he vanishes back under the furniture at shadow speed, only to try again in a few moments.
Already this spring five of your family have met their deaths in the swift justice of the Victor traps. The Victor brand mouse trap is one of the greatest inventions of mankind, second only to the wheel and the Harley Davidson motorcycle. My grandmother fought her mouse battles using Victor traps. Peanut butter is the Mouse Nation's siren call, luring the little beasts to their death. I hear a trap snap in a distant room and I cheer. I am Braveheart slaying the English at Stirling Bridge - the Terminator taking out the T1000 - Luke Skywalker fighting Darth Vader (before we knew Vader was his father).
I take the traps with the limp bodies hanging in them out to the woods, and there I sling them out of the trap, unceremoniously disposing the carcass to be reclaimed by whatever creature wants a fresh snack. Yeah, that is how heartless I am, Mice.
I will win this battle but the Mouse Nation knows they own the war. My side owns the twin superweapons: Victor Traps and Peanut Butter. They even the odds.
5 comments:
I'll print out and post your post as a warning to the *%#(ing furballs that stalk the night here!
My problem is, that they know that I am deathly adverse to even disposing of their remains. I do take some measure in knowing I have brothers who will remove the lifeless offenders. (I just have to endure a little of what I hope is good-natured ribbing.)
That's what brothers are for: good natured ribbing. If they'll do dead mouse removal, they must really love ya!
I'm not sure if it's love or pity. More to the point, I'm not sure I even care.
The point is.... the mice are removed!
In our house it is my husband who sets the traps, but is then too tender-hearted to remove the bodies. That's when I step in. Currently our 3 cats take on the outdoor mouses -- we rarely find one indoors, and that usually is the result of a cat bringing a catch in for some evening entertainment (theirs, not ours). It was a big job, plugging all the wee holes with evil chemical expando-foam, but I think we finally did it. Before this achievement, I was ok with finding the occasional mouse indoors -- not really, but gosh, they are the cutest little things -- until I learned that they (graphic language warning) have no sphincter muscles on their bladder, so they are constantly dribbling urine wherever they go. Your floor, counters, etc. Super ewwwwwwwwwwwwwww.
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