I can handle spiders, snakes, insects and most creepy-crawlies, but you throw a small, uncaged rodent in my path and I am likely to scream and run faster than I ever did in gym class.
When I was living on my own, shortly before I met Mike, I discovered to my horror that there were mice in the house. Trying to figure out how they got in, I started pulling boxes and cans out of the cupboard when I noticed one box of cereal rocking. Luckily a friend had come over to my rescue and was able to remove the box, cereal and mouse from my suite. Later my father came to my aid with some heavy duty wire mesh that he installed in the heat vents where I’d seen the little critters running too and from.
Years later, one of our cats brought a stunned but not dead mouse upstairs from the basement. When it moved, I made it across the house and into the bedroom, up on the bed in about three steps — one, two, SLAM, SCREAM! Mike dealt with it.
That brings me to today. At work, my chat window popped up:
11:22 AM Mike: In unrelated news: we have a mouse. I tried to get stuff to contain, but by the time I had implements, it had gone to ground.
11:34 AM me: F**k. Well, I expected it eventually, and no doubt the snow drove it indoors. I am a little surprised it is upstairs though.
11:35 AM Mike: upstairs: food, lazy cat. downstairs: no-food and freaky limber cat
Mike pursued the mouse, in part thanks to Kiddo’s panic. He found it, caught it, and turfed it out into the snow. Nice. No messy death and I come home to a mouse-free house.
Or so I thought.
I decided to tidy up the corner where the mouse had been spied this morning — the corner beside my chair (which I learned Mike had turned upside-down and beat to be sure there wasn’t a family of rodents inside). After some sorting of clutter, I carried an armload of books downstairs which is when I yelped because Minnie, our younger, “freaky limber” cat, was crouched over the carcass of a freshly-dead mouse.
Oddly, I can deal with dead mice, and I did (once I confirmed it was definitely not moving).
Hopefully it was the same mouse, having found its way back inside but just in case it isn’t and there’s more, Mike bought some sonic anti-rodent things and traps (carefully placed inside a container so that neither the curious cat nor the dim cat can trigger them).
= shudder =
This was a homing mouse. I looked out our front window to see it booking across the front lawn over the snow to the side of the house. Really? Man: you’re a moron.
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Outside of Douglas Adams’ works, mice are not renowned for their brains.
As I sit here reading your post I am surrounded by the little critters. All of the stuffed and ceramic variety. I have even had pet mice. I don’t care for the uninvited ones though.