I think perhaps creatures of all sizes sense my Tall, Dark, and Slightly Neanderthal Fellow’s lack of discretion in deciding which creatures are pets, and which are critters.
Thusly, for the past several weeks, our home has been shared by what we came to discover was a pair of very intelligent, sleek, chubby, adorable mice. Bold as brass, too… coming out to watch movies from the mantel, and running smack into my toes while I stood in the kitchen cooking, too. (So, smart, but perhaps astigmatic mice?)
The thing is, mice are cute. One can hardly fault cute creatures for doing as their instinct compels them, and with the amount of mess Lefty can make with a single saltine cracker, there was an ample food supply lurking at my house. We spent one enjoyable evening tempting them with cake, and watching the two of them zoom around right in the open, high on frosting.
Cute doesn’t cut it when I find mouse poop on my mantel.
So the Tall, Dark, and Slightly Neanderthal One was sent out for traps.
First, we tried traditional traps. Our clever mousies raided the traps three nights in a row, retiring to their nest plump and well-fed, and quite at their liberty. Eldest and The Boy named the pair Mr & Mrs Tesla, because they were so exceptionally clever; this put their father in the Edison category, which he didn’t mind enough to gripe about.
Then, we laid sticky traps end to end at every single running route we could find, thinking that they might be too clever for snap traps, but no mouse could long-jump like an Olympian, right?
Wrong. Ours can.
We gave up for awhile, and just enjoyed our impromptu pets.
And then my husband found little mousie poops on his nightstand. Does this mean they were standing there, watching us sleep?
When it looked like the girls and I would be headed out of town, it was decided we’d keep the sticky traps, but also employ chemical means to stop our free-pooping co-habitants. (Lefty still puts nearly everything in her mouth, so I was just not comfortable using D-Con with her around, even if it was highly inaccessible. She has magic powers.)
Halfway through our trip, the Tall, Dark, and Slightly Neanderthal One told me he’d trapped Mrs Tesla (who was pretty fat, so we’re hoping we caught her before she had dozens of squeaky babies in our wall), and she no longer resided with us.
Just before the end of the trip, he told me that Mr Tesla had taken the bait, and was definitely dead….
…. somewhere under the kitchen cabinets, where we can’t get at him. And he’s making his post-mortal presence known pretty… strongly.
So, does anyone know any good ways to get rid of that one particular stink that stinks like few other stinks? Because I’m open to new suggestions.
At least it’s warm enough (above zero, anyhow) to keep the windows open.
We should have just found a spot for the big terrarium, and built a cute little cottage for the two of them, enclosed in glass where we could enjoy the view, stench-free. Perhaps they were meant to be pets, not critters, after all.