The Great Mouse War continues. We caught the stupid ones forthwith. As in, within minutes of setting out the traps. How dumb do you have to be? But the remaining mice are, to varying degrees, clever about avoiding traps. I’ve even seen some navigate around them like a lightning-paced dressage. We set them out with disposable gloves so they don’t smell human, and armed them with peanut butter. How do they know? Are the survivors spreading intel? Is my animal rights activist daughter sabotaging the traps while we sleep?
I’ve noticed a pattern with the clever ones. They’re quiet for a day or two but eventually venture out, I assume they get hungry. After enough venturing one or two ultimately get caught, then it’s quiet again. Each ‘wave’ is trickier than the last to dupe. One kitchen mouse in particular is proving quite shrewd, darting from island to cabinet to under the sink like a fearless laser beam.
Yesterday an epic battle took place that will be sung by bards for generations to come. My son- to help you envision this let me describe him- 6’2,” lanky, and the second or third nerdiest human being on the planet- caught sight of a mouse in the kitchen (no not ‘the’ kitchen mouse). He grabs the lid off my countertop roaster, slams it down on the mouse pinning it by the tail, and with his free hand grabs a glue trap and sticks it the beast. Humans, one, mice, zero!
When I picked up my daughters (not the animal rights one) from school I regaled them with the tale of how their brother caught a mouse with his bare hands. Well almost.
I will admit, they are cute. When they get ‘glued’ they make sweet, birdlike chirping sounds that are even cuter (I know they’re crying out in terror, I get it). But goddammit they are pooping all over my house and breeding like mormons.