I’ve been after the little S-O-B for weeks. He’s mocking me now, I’m pretty certain of it. Since I stay up late, and he is apparently nocturnal, he runs out from behind the washing machine in the hallway and peers into my lit office, then scampers back. A couple times I’ve looked up to see him tearing down the hall at hypersonic speed. He thinks it’s funny.
He is bionic, I’m pretty sure. The Sic Million Dollar Mouse. Mr. Muggles.
Now, I’m an animal lover, with the exception of reptiles, and apparently Mr. Muggles is fully aware of this. He thinks he lives here and has the run of the house, which I guess at the moment he does. I have one of those large metal box traps where the little guys can walk in and a small door shuts behind them. There’s air holes and I leave enough food in the trap so they’re pretty satiated by the time I drive them up to a nearby field and relocate them. Just flip open the top and off they bolt. I would not use poison or anything that would hurt them.
But Mr. Muggles isn’t falling for peanuts or cheese. So tonight I am trying peanut butter spread on a wheat cracker. Sooner or later his little gray ass is mine.
He tasks me. All fluffy two inches of him. At least I assume it’s a him. Mr. Muggles might be Miss Muggles. I haven’t been able to get close enough to find out and probably will forgo that distinction. I’m not too sure what kind or kick he is getting out of taunting me, peering in at me with his beady mousy eyes. Oh, and he’s a weird little thing, sorta like a tiny gray kangaroo. Gee, they don’t come that small, do they? There’s been a lot of immigration in Maine lately.
Ah, well. He’s set the bar, now I have to rise to it. Or lower to it, since he is only two inches tall. Mr. Muggles is going down. Him and his squeaky trash talkin’. It’s me or the mouse. Updates to follow…
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1 comments:
Best of luck. I look forward to updates. As a cat owner I'm under constant siege from all the wee beasties that are brought in for cattie entertainment and frankly several decades of experience has taught me precisely nothing about how to get rid of them. Leaving food out don't work, humane traps with cheese at the end don't work, inhumane traps like a big hammmer don't work, and screeching loudly and jumping on the furniture don't work.
I think the only cunning plan you can do is to be prepared and go everywhere armed with a waste-paper basket. When you meet Muggles and you're armed with only your hands you're doomed to find him squirm out through your fingers while giving you a nip, but slapping that bin down over him is just about all you can do.
Oh, and being very serious a while. If he's behind the washing machine, be afraid, be very afraid. Mices like to chew the dangley bits beneath washing machines. Make sure nothing is exposed underneath or you're looking at a damp house and expense... and then you really start to loathe the beasties.
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