Die maus ist mausetot
We live in a 100+ year-old house in a very old neighborhood in Atlanta. Mice sort of came with the mortgage. There aren't many, they are very cute, and we have an arrangement of sorts. They don't come in our house and we give them free reign of the crawlspace and any food-like debris that exists outside our home.
Occasionally one ventures into the home. And sadly, inevitably, it is murdered. But not in the way you'd expect a mouse to perish in a house with five female cats*. Perhaps it is because our cats are lazy. Perhaps it is that the fortune we've spent on rattle mousies have de-sensitized them to the true sport of chasing a live mouse. Perhaps they think rodents taste the way we expect them to taste--very bad. Whatever the case, mouse death is not on their consciences.
We kill the mice. Completely and utterly by accident. In tragically botched search and rescue missions designed to capture and transport said mousie to the outdoors where it would be free to return to the confines of the crawlspace at his or her liesure. It never goes according to plan.
Once upon a time, a little darling mousie stupidly came into our home. Nixon, the fattest of our five, thought to chase it into the guest bedroom. That's when Project Mouse Amnesty began. I saw where the frightened little fuzzball was hiding. He or she had crawled under the ammo box where I store my mementos (doesn't everyone?). I got suited up for the mission.
Rubber gloves. Check.
Tall mouseproof boots. Check.
Empty shoe box. Check.
I approached the hiding spot. Lifted the ammo box and...
...accidentally dropped it on the mouse.
...and then cried for four hours.
Brad removed its body and we held vigil for the lost beastie.
Well, today, stupid mouse #2 entered our home. He or she must not have gotten the memo that is tacked in visible locations throughout the crawlspace breakrooms. We didn't know there was a mouse in the house until we started doing our housecleaning ritual.
Search and rescue mission was on.
It had crawled under our backdoor rug. Brad didn't realize that was its location, and attempted to smooth out the rug with his foot.
*SQUEAK!*
Dammit. If only they'd stick to the notorized Mousie-Human Co-Habitation Contract we drew up NONE OF THIS would happen.
*female cats are typically the mousers of the breed. Except in this household, where they are the canned food eaters, strictly.
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News item I don't give a rat's ass about #25321: Posh Spice has reproduced.. AGAIN. Woo-friggin'-woo.
Occasionally one ventures into the home. And sadly, inevitably, it is murdered. But not in the way you'd expect a mouse to perish in a house with five female cats*. Perhaps it is because our cats are lazy. Perhaps it is that the fortune we've spent on rattle mousies have de-sensitized them to the true sport of chasing a live mouse. Perhaps they think rodents taste the way we expect them to taste--very bad. Whatever the case, mouse death is not on their consciences.
We kill the mice. Completely and utterly by accident. In tragically botched search and rescue missions designed to capture and transport said mousie to the outdoors where it would be free to return to the confines of the crawlspace at his or her liesure. It never goes according to plan.
Once upon a time, a little darling mousie stupidly came into our home. Nixon, the fattest of our five, thought to chase it into the guest bedroom. That's when Project Mouse Amnesty began. I saw where the frightened little fuzzball was hiding. He or she had crawled under the ammo box where I store my mementos (doesn't everyone?). I got suited up for the mission.
Rubber gloves. Check.
Tall mouseproof boots. Check.
Empty shoe box. Check.
I approached the hiding spot. Lifted the ammo box and...
...accidentally dropped it on the mouse.
...and then cried for four hours.
Brad removed its body and we held vigil for the lost beastie.
Well, today, stupid mouse #2 entered our home. He or she must not have gotten the memo that is tacked in visible locations throughout the crawlspace breakrooms. We didn't know there was a mouse in the house until we started doing our housecleaning ritual.
Search and rescue mission was on.
It had crawled under our backdoor rug. Brad didn't realize that was its location, and attempted to smooth out the rug with his foot.
*SQUEAK!*
Dammit. If only they'd stick to the notorized Mousie-Human Co-Habitation Contract we drew up NONE OF THIS would happen.
*female cats are typically the mousers of the breed. Except in this household, where they are the canned food eaters, strictly.
-------------------------
News item I don't give a rat's ass about #25321: Posh Spice has reproduced.. AGAIN. Woo-friggin'-woo.
6 Comments:
So my confidence that Hippo and Crazy
(both male) will keep the mice at bay in my house is mis-placed?
Hey, ya never know. If either care about their toys, they might be interested. If they are, they need to get on the horn with my five and give them tips.
My mother once carefully trapped a mouse in a trash can and then, not knowing what to do with a live mouse, decided to release it into the backyard...where it ran directly into the mouth of our calico cat.
If there is a mouse version of the Darwin Awards, I think that mouse nailed it.
Hmm..I always thought it was the opposite. If thre was a mouse here, my girlie, Meg would have to go through Jack to get to it(especially 'Barbie Mice hehe)...and my boy Calli was ALL about the mousies...you might even say obsessed. Meg is more into bugs. lol I guess all of them little kitties are different though, eh?
I hope no more mousies come to visit..maybe you need to post a sign for them. ;)
Having had uninvited mice, rats, bats, a ferret, a squirrel, and a snake in my different houses has made he immune to nicities. I say kill the rodents. I hate wild creatures in the house, I'm scared of wild and some domesticated animals outside the house (Cows are very very large). I intellectually appreciate wild things, but when it comes down to it, I'm a prissy girly girl afraid of diseases and bites.
What I'm trying to say is good riddance to the mice that got killed! When we had cats, we always had mousers. And molers. and birders. Whatever, they were great at keeping the creepy crawly animals at bay!
Evelin
Surpisingly, however, I will rescue spiders and bring them outside.
Evelin.
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