The Mouse House (Part II)

So I continue my “Mouse House” saga.  If you haven’t read Part I. Please do.. It’s essential.

My mother in law arrived at the house in record breaking time.  She may have used a brick on her gas pedal.  I’m not sure and I’m not asking because I was so grateful that she got there as fast as she did, even though each second of me perching on the beam in my kitchen seemed like an eternity as I watched this MOUSE jump around my counter.  Touching every surface.  My sink, my counter where FOOD is PREPARED, my stove and my DISHES.  That’s it.  I was throwing away those dishes.  I can’t stand KNOWING that a mouse was running around inside of them.  Little critter hands slipping around in my yogurt and little critter tongues licking the remains of my fruit.  It was too much.  No amount of bleach was going to erase that type of memory and I just wouldn’t feel right eating off of those dishes ever again.  Thank god I wasn’t using fine china, or that would have been a waste.

My mother-in-law came in the house and saw me on the beam.  “It’s okay, Sarah.  It’s not going to hurt you.”

“I know that.  I just HATE them!”  I said as I started to cry again.  “They’re dirty and they FREAK ME OUT!”  I sobbed.

“Okay.”  She stood still in the kitchen.  See? This is the good thing about having a mother-in-law who is from the country.  She is more level headed when it comes to these things.  Believe me, she doesn’t like them, but she can be more rational.  

The mouse came out.

Again, my screaming got the best of me and I began having another panic attack.

“Okay...It looks like he’s coming from behind the stove..So next time he goes back behind the stove, I’m going to block him in there,” my mother-in-law, Judy, said.  I resumed breathing.

“oooo….kkkk.” <panting>  The mouse went behind the stove and she darted to grab a large canister in which she placed beside the back of the stove, blocking the little demon there.  I took a few deep breaths and slowing uncoiled myself from the beam as she went into the other room to check the baby.  “We need to move.”  I said.  “If there are mice here, I HAVE to MOVE.  You don’t understand.  I seriously HATE them and I will not sleep at night.  What if they go in my bed?? What if I hear them at night?  What is they are walking on the counters at night? OH MY GOD!”

“Sarah,  it’s probably just one that we scared while moving in here.  He looks like a baby and he is probably just lost.  It’s fine.  We’ll set a trap.  And then he’ll be gone..ok?  Don’t even worry about it.  We can take care of this.”  Judy said.

We set a trap under the sink, because we found EVIDENCE of the mouse under there (OMG!!!!)  How did I know there was EVIDENCE?? I had literally COVERED all over my cabinets and cupboards with stark white parchment paper..That way I could see everything..And by everything, I mean everything. I could see traces of them everywhere.  I think you could have classified me as insane as I walked around the house wringing my hands and jumping at every little noise and yelping like a hurt puppy.   I had Chris check the trap under the sink about 12 times an hour..And you know what?? We caught the sucker the first NIGHT!  

But it wasn’t the little mouse I saw in my cereal bowl.  It was a HUGE mouse..Oh my dear lord.  It was his mother!  What if we had a FAMILY living here?!?!? Lots of little feet running around my house leaving there pellets behind, just in time for my little baby to pick one up and..

OH LORD.

Fainting involved…. Nausea.

I demanded that we call an exterminator.  Or I wasn’t living there. Fact. I was out if these things weren’t gone asap.  It was decided that Judy would call the landlord and explain the situation and tell her that we needed a exterminator to come to the house to take care of the apparent “problem”...Along with the various spiders (who were on steroids and I believe pumping iron) that became involved also.  Judy called the landlord (who knew how to pick up a telephone..I know! Surprising since she looked as though she was one of the witches from the Wizard of Oz..And I’m not talking about Glinda the “good witch”).  “There is no mouse problem at that house,” she said.  She said this even after Judy explained that we had, in fact, caught one in our old fashioned trap filled with peanut butter bait.  And after the explanation of the evidence, AND the explanation of the mouse on the countertop.  Judy hung up and reported back to us what had happened.

“Does she want me to BRING her the dead MOUSE?? Cause I will!” I said.  “Is that enough EVIDENCE for her? Or should I VIDEOTAPE the mice in my breakfast!”

My head shot around to the stove.  I heard rustling.  And scraping.  And then more rummaging.  My eyes may have bugged out of my head for a nanosecond before I darted over to the stove with (yes, I know it’s cliche) a frying pan.  We all went into the kitchen and low and behold, were were the sounds of critters above the stove in the fan.  And you know what? NO WAY to get to THEM.  Of course I ran out of the house as Chris dismantled the fan, only to find that it had been blocked off.  Welp.  Guess we found the nest!  And no way to get rid of them! We can be one big happy family, rustling up something for dinner, enjoying a meal together.

It was decided then.  We were going to pay for an exterminator ourselves and deal with Mrs. Ancient after the problem was #1: PROVED and #2 TAKEN CARE OF.

$600 later an exterminator tells me that he found evidence of mice in every room of the house.  

I may have thrown up at his feet.  I don’t know because it’s all black and spinny, as he placed locked cases of poison in most of my closets, under my sink in the bathroom (which I still hated and would rather pee in the yard because I have a feeling it would be more hygienic at this point in time), and under my sink in the kitchen.

“So what happens when the mice eat the poison?”  I asked.

“They die.”  He said,

duh.

“But where?” I mean, do they just die, like, on my living room floor.  Or run around on my counter choking and wheezing and then keeling over?  I needed to know the logistics.

“No..They will probably die in your walls,”  he replied.

And that they did.

And so, so much more. 

   

Comments

[flutterby]

Well whatever you do don't let anyone talk you into getting a cat to take care of the mice... cats will think they are doing something good by leaving you little gifts of mice parts where you can find them. And those dogs are SO plotting your demise; I can see it in their faces. They are probably in cahoots with the mice. Sleep with your bedroom door locked...