The mouse is finally gone. He has passed on, as they say. And not by natural causes. Or the copious rat poison we put out. He got caught by, as Oliver called it, the "mouse smasher."
For over a year, we've been dealing with mice/a mouse in the kitchen. Last summer was particularly bad -- there was mouse poop all through the cabinet under my sink, and at one point, they got into our food pantry. We put out rat poison (in a form safe for children and pets), and when I started seeing green poop (the color of the poison), I knew we were getting somewhere. The mice disappeared, and I more or less forgot about it. We also figured out how they were getting into some of the cabinets and blocked the openings to avoid future issues.
The past few months, we've had a mouse. One little guy that Wes and I would regularly see at night -- too fast for us to ever catch, and a regular visitor as a consequence. I would be sitting on the couch in the living room and see him scurry out in the middle of the dark kitchen. Lucy had no interest in chasing the mouse. One night, she and I were in the living room together watching the mouse run back and forth from some safe space to her dog bowl, where the mouse climbed into her food and ate some. It was like watching a tennis match with this little mouse back and forth. The dog seriously laid on the rug and watched the thing do this for like five minutes before I put the bowl on the counter.
To be honest, I could've lived with one mouse -- a strange thing to say, I know, especially in the kitchen. But he was a cute little guy, didn't cause anyone problems. He did come into the living room one night when I was in there, which freaked me out a little bit. But the problem is that one, most mice don't live a solitary life, and where one thrived, there were sure to soon be more, and two, he pooped. The main way I knew the mouse was out and about was by finding mice turds in my kitchen cabinets. In particular, he frequented the cabinet just to the left of my stove, ironically the only low-level cabinet that didn't have a child lock (and even after we put one on, he still got in). I would end up cleaning out the cabinet, washing dishes, every day to deal with the poop.
We tried to put out more mice poison. He didn't take it. We reinforced every hole we could find, but still he came. We had tried traps the summer before but to no avail; the mice would take the bait and leave the trap, and it wasn't safe to have them out long term with the kids and dog around. Finally, after listening to me rail about the number of individuals' poop I am responsible for (Ollie, Emme, Lucy, bunnies in the backyard, I guess mine, too), Wes went to get a trap at the local hardware store. Interestingly, they said that a lot of people in the area complain about the mice getting the bait without getting trapped. Perhaps we have a highly capable breed of mice in the 12 South neighborhood. Anyhow, they told Wes about a trick with dental floss and peanut butter, so that the mouse gets his teeth caught in the dental floss and can't get away. Wes set it up one night in the middle of the kitchen floor (with Lucy partitioned safely away) after he went to bed late. He heard it go off not much later and got up to find the mouse successfully done for (with, as he tells it, some splatter). I happily missed the whole thing, so much so that I got up the next morning, checked the kitchen, and got annoyed when I saw there was no trap even waiting. Bless my husband, as I would not have enjoyed cleaning up dead mouse.
So the mouse is gone. I am very happy not to scurry through the kitchen after dark anymore or clean mouse poop from my cabinets. And yet, Wes and I had clearly become fond of the little dear. I told him that next time, we go straight for the trap. I can't get attached like this and then have to deal such a severe blow.
To be honest, I could've lived with one mouse -- a strange thing to say, I know, especially in the kitchen. But he was a cute little guy, didn't cause anyone problems. He did come into the living room one night when I was in there, which freaked me out a little bit. But the problem is that one, most mice don't live a solitary life, and where one thrived, there were sure to soon be more, and two, he pooped. The main way I knew the mouse was out and about was by finding mice turds in my kitchen cabinets. In particular, he frequented the cabinet just to the left of my stove, ironically the only low-level cabinet that didn't have a child lock (and even after we put one on, he still got in). I would end up cleaning out the cabinet, washing dishes, every day to deal with the poop.
We tried to put out more mice poison. He didn't take it. We reinforced every hole we could find, but still he came. We had tried traps the summer before but to no avail; the mice would take the bait and leave the trap, and it wasn't safe to have them out long term with the kids and dog around. Finally, after listening to me rail about the number of individuals' poop I am responsible for (Ollie, Emme, Lucy, bunnies in the backyard, I guess mine, too), Wes went to get a trap at the local hardware store. Interestingly, they said that a lot of people in the area complain about the mice getting the bait without getting trapped. Perhaps we have a highly capable breed of mice in the 12 South neighborhood. Anyhow, they told Wes about a trick with dental floss and peanut butter, so that the mouse gets his teeth caught in the dental floss and can't get away. Wes set it up one night in the middle of the kitchen floor (with Lucy partitioned safely away) after he went to bed late. He heard it go off not much later and got up to find the mouse successfully done for (with, as he tells it, some splatter). I happily missed the whole thing, so much so that I got up the next morning, checked the kitchen, and got annoyed when I saw there was no trap even waiting. Bless my husband, as I would not have enjoyed cleaning up dead mouse.
So the mouse is gone. I am very happy not to scurry through the kitchen after dark anymore or clean mouse poop from my cabinets. And yet, Wes and I had clearly become fond of the little dear. I told him that next time, we go straight for the trap. I can't get attached like this and then have to deal such a severe blow.
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