So, the mice. We knew we were sharing the place with rodents, figuring in this kind of semi-rural environment it's inevitable. But so far they'd kept to themselves so we were ok with letting them live in the basement and/or garage, as long as they didn't get destructive. When I opened the oven one night to come face to face with a pair of beady eyes—well, that was the end of the cohabitation arrangement. James was out of town at a conference, so I spent the night hearing scritchy-scratchy noises everywhere and planning my counterattack. I decided against poison since I don't want the buggers dying behind the wallboards and stinking up the place (we apparently have skunks to do that for us), or Casey deciding it's a tasty treat and croaking on us. Snap traps and the new glue traps are just too gross and make me cringe—I can't abide that sort of violence in my home. So I went to Wal-Mart the next day planning to buy an ultrasonic repeller, or 3 or 4, to drive them away. Unfortunately, they didn't have any, so I ended up spending $1.50 on a little plastic box with a one-way lid. And as I stated above, it has worked wonderfully so far, scoring 3 out of 3 captures! The little mousey morons just can't resist crackers & peanut butter. Who knows, we could be capturing the same one over and over, dumping it out back so it can find its way back in and come get some more crackers & peanut butter. Whatever. At least I haven't had to look one in the eye in the oven again.

When we first moved into this house, we blamed the weird happenings on the House Gnome. Things went missing, throat lozenges appeared in the closet, etc. Now we're thinking it was the mice. The missing house keys are still a mystery—although I get this great image of a couple of mice hefting them down the heat vents. Could explain how they're getting in...
2 comments:
More people should write on your blog: you need to know they are reading it cuz it is SOOOOO good! I read it always.
Back when we were still in the old house, I once turned over a bag of dog food to pour it into the bowl and had a mouse tumble out of it right onto my foot. I confess--I did the "screaming woman at the sight of a mouse" thing. Not my most feminist moment. I'd have been fine if the darn thing didn't scurry across my toes! The whole family came running--and wondered why I was pointing at a nearby cupboard with tears running down my face...and peals of giggles by then. All I could think was, "I wish I could've gotten that on video!"
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