Tuesday, December 20, 2011

Hansel & Gretel Couldn’t Have Left a Better Trail

    I swear to all that is Holy there is a well-marked road map and several sign posts with possible runway lights that lead straight to our dishwasher and kitchen. It is miniature sized. Mouse sized. We have another one, or several, or however many.  F and I were away on vacation for a week. Puppy was at the Dog Sitter’s house.  When I entered the kitchen I noticed all the “spare” pieces of food Puppy had left on the floor surrounding her bowl were gone. Then within minutes of Puppy making it in the house she was tail deep in a corner of the kitchen where we keep a bag of bags.  I thought that was odd since she never goes in that corner.  I moved said bag aside and low, there were droppings. 


Then as I grabbed the bread to make myself some toast, I noticed a hole in the bread bag.  “Is that melted? From being by the toaster oven?…. even though it was nowhere near the toaster oven?”  Then I noticed the chunk of bread missing.

“Fucking shit.”

Checking the counter top where said bread was kept I spied more dropping.

“Mother Fucking SHIT!!!!!!!!!”

I started opening all the drawers looking for more droppings because that is where they have been the last few times. I saw none. I also saw none in the dishwasher.  Another favorite spot.
“This could be not so bad.”
“F! the mice are back! Please call an exterminator ASAP. I am sick of dealing with this.”
F: “grumble, complain, makes excuses…..”

Next day
“Holy shit! The mice have made it into the half bathroom! Please call an exterminator!”
F: “grumble, complain, makes excuses…..”

Another Day Passes

Puppy and I are filling the dishwasher when I open the door and there is a small grayish thing sitting there.  I realize it is a mouse and slam the door shut hoping to knock it unconscious with the door.  Puppy is completely clueless even though half of her breed is “standard size dachshund was bred to scent, chase, and flush out badgers and other burrow-dwelling animals”.  Mice are burrow dwelling, aren’t they? Anyway, she did nothing.  The mouse was dazed, but not completely out of it. I stared at it for several moments trying to decide if I should just reach into the dishwasher and grab it. I was afraid it would bite me. During my indecision period the mouse had made it to its goal, the vents or something in the bottom of the dishwasher door.  It crawled right up in there. Where it went from inside the dishwasher door I have no idea.

“F! The mouse is in the dishwasher door!!!”
“I don’t know what to do about that, I have no idea how to get to it. Just run the dishwasher.”

So I did.  Then I washed all the knives and emptied the drawers. Everything is now on the dining room table and you have to walk there to get a knife, or spoon or fork. 

F is picking up mouse traps today.

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