Dealing with a mouse is definitely not on my bucket list, but I guess I have to put on my big-girl panties and deal with it. However, I did not deal with it very well.
A few nights ago, I was enjoying a nice quiet evening in with my friend Brenda. We were noshing on pizza, catching up on the week's episode of Modern Family when Brenda not-so-calmly said "There's a mouse in your house." Or something like that. I don't really recall the exact phrase, all that registered was one word. MOUSE. I've dealt with mice all my life, since I grew up on a farm. But I didn't like them then, and I don't like them now. I proceeded to freak the eff out, jump off the loveseat and fly across the room. "Are you serious?" I practically yelled at Brenda. She seemed to second guess herself (rightfully so, since I was giving her the look of death and disbelief). She assured me it was real and that it had run under the loveseat. Insert expletive here.
I grabbed a flashlight and gingerly peered underneath both my couch and loveseat to try to spy a set of beady little eyes. No such luck. We spent about 5 minutes looking from every angle to try to find my new furry companion. All I found was that holy crap, I REALLY need to dust under my furniture. It's embarrassing. And where did that Sprite bottle come from?
We started to believe that maybe it was just an eye twitch or Lord only knows, Brenda was having a stroke. (I really didn't think she was crazy, but I'll admit I was kinda hoping so...I did NOT want to believe I had a rodent in my house.) After tearing the cushions off the loveseat and not seeing a thing, I joined Brenda on the couch to watch some more TV. All I kept thinking was what the eff am I going to do about a mouse in my house?
Five minutes went by and Brenda screeched again, "There it is again. I swear it's real!" But, I still hadn't seem the damn thing. Again, we flew off the couch, grabbed our flashlights and peered under the furniture from an 8-10' distance. But, I saw nothing. Zip, zilch, nada. I did happen to remember that my dad had given me some mouse traps at one point, so I flew down to the basement. It was only two glue traps, but it was better than nothing. I put one near the couch, hoping the little buggar would get stuck. Brenda started singing "Somewhere Out There" hoping he might join her in a resounding chorus. (That's a Fievel Goes West reference. :) No such luck. We did however have a name for our creepy little house guest.
We sat in the hallway with our eyes peeled for a good 20 minutes or so. My heart was racing, wondering what I was going to do. Mice creep me the eff out. I can't have one in my house. While we sat there, we both joked about what we would do if he came darting out from under the couch right at us. Considering how ballsy this little guy was, I didn't doubt it was possible. I grabbed the closest weapon I could find. A towel.
Don't judge me.
And so we waited.
I still hadn't seen this thing. Could it really be a figment of her imagination? I seriously doubted it. Brenda is a bright girl. And I would hope she'd know better than to give me a heart attack. But I still saw nothing. Some time went by and we thought it might be safe to resume our evening on the furniture. Brenda staked out the couch to watch and wait for signs of the evil spawn. I wasn't so eager, so I opted to sit on the arm of the loveseat and keep a weather eye on the floor.
I wasn't to be disappointed. I was minding my own business when out of the corner of my eye, I caught movement. There, under the couch, I saw an eerie ghostlike figure moving ever-so-slowly toward the edge. He was just hidden enough in the shadows that I could barely make him out, giving him that eerie glow. But, he was there. Oh good Lord, he was there. NOOOOOOOOO! I screamed "Oh my god, I see him!" Brenda was vindicated, but I was totally creeped out. I saw him, staring at me. With those soulless eyes.
He had headed in the direction of the glue trap, so I hoped to hell he walked through it. No such luck. I lost sight of him. A few minutes later, he darted out from underneath the loveseat and ran under my coffee table. But, that's where I lost him. We tried to corner his escape, but he's effing Houdini and he freakin' disappeared. Dammit!!
It was nearing 10pm at this point and Brenda wanted to head home for the night. She offered to let me sleep at her place, but I tried to be brave and said I'd stay at home. She reassured me "mice can't climb", although I didn't believe that for a second. We said goodbye and I braved myself for the night ahead.
As I prepared for my nightly before-bed rituals, I walked past the kitchen and looked to see that the glue trap I placed there was not where I left it. It was about 4 inches away and cockeyed. Hmmm, that's funny, I don't think I kicked it. I kept walking and about 90 seconds later, I heard a strange noise that sounded like fingernails on metal. Clink clink clink. Oh. My. God. I think it's in the kitchen. I walked 2 feet into the room and yep, I saw it. It was rooting around in my freaking sink. In my SINK, people. I had a stainless steel bowl and a cookie sheet drying in the strainer, and Fievel was trying out his own version of S.T.O.M.P. by playing the bowl with a wooden spoon.
I still hadn't seen this thing. Could it really be a figment of her imagination? I seriously doubted it. Brenda is a bright girl. And I would hope she'd know better than to give me a heart attack. But I still saw nothing. Some time went by and we thought it might be safe to resume our evening on the furniture. Brenda staked out the couch to watch and wait for signs of the evil spawn. I wasn't so eager, so I opted to sit on the arm of the loveseat and keep a weather eye on the floor.
I wasn't to be disappointed. I was minding my own business when out of the corner of my eye, I caught movement. There, under the couch, I saw an eerie ghostlike figure moving ever-so-slowly toward the edge. He was just hidden enough in the shadows that I could barely make him out, giving him that eerie glow. But, he was there. Oh good Lord, he was there. NOOOOOOOOO! I screamed "Oh my god, I see him!" Brenda was vindicated, but I was totally creeped out. I saw him, staring at me. With those soulless eyes.
He had headed in the direction of the glue trap, so I hoped to hell he walked through it. No such luck. I lost sight of him. A few minutes later, he darted out from underneath the loveseat and ran under my coffee table. But, that's where I lost him. We tried to corner his escape, but he's effing Houdini and he freakin' disappeared. Dammit!!
It was nearing 10pm at this point and Brenda wanted to head home for the night. She offered to let me sleep at her place, but I tried to be brave and said I'd stay at home. She reassured me "mice can't climb", although I didn't believe that for a second. We said goodbye and I braved myself for the night ahead.
As I prepared for my nightly before-bed rituals, I walked past the kitchen and looked to see that the glue trap I placed there was not where I left it. It was about 4 inches away and cockeyed. Hmmm, that's funny, I don't think I kicked it. I kept walking and about 90 seconds later, I heard a strange noise that sounded like fingernails on metal. Clink clink clink. Oh. My. God. I think it's in the kitchen. I walked 2 feet into the room and yep, I saw it. It was rooting around in my freaking sink. In my SINK, people. I had a stainless steel bowl and a cookie sheet drying in the strainer, and Fievel was trying out his own version of S.T.O.M.P. by playing the bowl with a wooden spoon.
I. Flipped. Out. Even more than I had all night. I immediately dialed Brenda and the next minute was a mixture of gobbledy gook and garbled lunacy. I honestly have no idea what I said. I think there was something about "Bitch, mice can CLIMB." And, "It's in my SINK!!"
Wait, hold up....he MOVED the glue trap out of his way. He's the Einstein Mouse. Great, I get the one who's not afraid of people and who likes to eff with said people's sanity by moving the glue traps around.
Crap. Crap. Crap. Crap. Crap. Oh no, he's walking on my counter now. GROSS! Guess I'll have to throw that out now. Sonuva. He eventually disappeared behind my mixer and I slinked out of the room with my mind racing. I still thought to myself, "I'm just going to go to sleep and forget about him". I proceeded to pad both of my bedroom doors with towels and blankets in a desperate attempt that he will see that as a sign of "Privacy Please". I knew that was stupid, that if he wanted to get in, he sure as hell could. But, it was all I could do to keep some sanity.
I could still hear him moving around in the kitchen, so I turned on some music to drown him out and hoped to hell I could get some sleep. I eventually fell asleep, only because I was exhausted from a long week. A few hours into my slumber, I had a dream that he was crawling all over my arms, so I awoke in a stupor and swatted at my arms and the bed. I quickly fell back asleep assuring myself it was just a dream.
Crap. Crap. Crap. Crap. Crap. Oh no, he's walking on my counter now. GROSS! Guess I'll have to throw that out now. Sonuva. He eventually disappeared behind my mixer and I slinked out of the room with my mind racing. I still thought to myself, "I'm just going to go to sleep and forget about him". I proceeded to pad both of my bedroom doors with towels and blankets in a desperate attempt that he will see that as a sign of "Privacy Please". I knew that was stupid, that if he wanted to get in, he sure as hell could. But, it was all I could do to keep some sanity.
I could still hear him moving around in the kitchen, so I turned on some music to drown him out and hoped to hell I could get some sleep. I eventually fell asleep, only because I was exhausted from a long week. A few hours into my slumber, I had a dream that he was crawling all over my arms, so I awoke in a stupor and swatted at my arms and the bed. I quickly fell back asleep assuring myself it was just a dream.
Now, in the light of day, I'm not so sure.
When I awoke the next morning, I carefully peered down at the floor to make sure he wasn't lying in wait to pounce on my unprotected tootsies. I grabbed the first forcefield, aka a blanket, and froze in place. There, right in front of me was a tiny disembodied tail peeking out from underneath the door. AHHHHHHH!!! It slept not 2 feet from me all night. The events of the night unfolded in my brain and I shuddered to think that he was probably trying to snuggle in my warm bed during the night. Blech! I can't describe here the severity of my shudder at the thought that HE WAS CRAWLING ALL OVER MY ARMS AND POSSIBLY MY FACE.
I had no way of grabbing him, even if I was capable of actually grabbing a live mouse by the tail. At the cool breeze from lifting the blanket, he burrowed further into his warm nest. DAMMIT. Good thing I have another door to get out of my bedroom. I proceeded to the shower, where I felt like at any moment, he was going to join me for a quick swim. Fastest shower ever, I might add. The rest of the morning went by rather easily, and I headed to Target to get a few more death traps for the little bastard. I ended up with 8 conventional traps, 8 glue traps and 2 spinning traps that were designed to not let me see the dead body. I liked that idea. I placed a total of 10 in and around my living room, kitchen and bedroom, using peanut butter as bait. Surely, one of these things would do the trick.
I got ready to leave for the day, heading to my sister's house to celebrate my niece's birthday. I took one last look under the blanket to see if Fievel was still there, and I really should have thought it through more. Fievel was in full view just staring at me as I lifted the blanket. Crud. As I thought it through to go get a box or something to cover him, he must have read my mind, because he dashed back into his hiding place. Crap, I lost my advantage of surprise.
I left the house feeling confident that he would be dead when I got home.
Fast forward 24 hours. I have never wished for my home to produce the acrid smell of rotting flesh wafting through it like I did when I came home this morning. Dead mouse smell I could handle. Another night of Fievel doing the happy dance on my forehead, I could not. I walked in and instantly I smelled my home fragrance and I was dejected. I pressed on and continued to look at every trap. Not one of them had Fievel in it. Shit. And the more I looked, I realized that ALL of the conventional traps were licked clean. Not a single trace of peanut butter remained. And not a single one of them tripped. I nearly started to cry. This can not be possible. I have the smartest, ballsiest mouse on the planet trying to be my roommate.
I shrugged it off and decided to try a trick my brother wrote me about. It involved a 5-gallon bucket, a ruler and as many traps that would fit in the bucket. I placed some PB on the end of the ruler and placed it precariously on the edge of my coffee table, pb end over the edge. Under the ruler, I placed the 5-gallon bucket with 7 set traps in the bottom. The idea is that Fievel will be desperate for the pb, walk out on the ruler, fall into the bucket and get snapped by a trap. At the very least he'll get trapped in the bucket without being able to climb up the sides. Seems like a very straight-forward plan and something an engineer would come up with. Thanks bro.
I did as he directed and proceeded to work on stuff in the rest of my house. I was sitting at my dining room table on the computer when I saw him peek from the side of the coffee table. He took stock of the bucket and tried to climb it a few times. He walked round and round and tried desperately to climb up the side of the coffee table, but it was too tall and slippery for him. Over and over again he tried to get to the little nugget of goodness on the end of the ruler. I quickly realized that I hadn't thought out how he was going to get to the ruler. I guess I thought he could get up there. He finally gave up and I got pissed. I had an opportunity to catch him and I let it go. Although, to be honest, when I started for the living room, he ran and hid for a few minutes until the noise subsided. I don't think I could have actually captured him with the box I was wielding, even if I tried. He came back a few times and tried it again and again, but would give up and just run around my couch like it was his own personal jungle gym. I could do nothing but watch him disrespect my couch, and my life, time and time again. Guess I'm going to have to burn my couch too. Bummer.
I grabbed my laptop desk that keeps my legs from getting hot when using my laptop and leaned it up against the table, hoping he would use it as a little ramp. 4 hours went by and I guess he thought it was best to stay hidden, because he didn't come out again. Shoot. I was hoping he would end his own life before bed, so I could actually sleep.
I spent the entire afternoon trying, hoping and praying that Fievel would just die already. I checked my Facebook updates and saw a couple of ideas from my dad and my brother's best friend, Keith. Keith suggested I wedge a potato chip into the trigger of the trap so the little guy would have to work at it. Dad suggested I set the trap in the middle of a square of glue traps. Well, it couldn't hurt. I already had two teeter-totter traps set up in the house and he hadn't set off either one. Might as well try something else.
I didn't have any potato chips, but I did have a nutty granola bar that I took a piece and wedged onto the underside of the trigger. I coated the bottom in peanut butter and then set the trap in the kitchen. I took four glue traps and made a square around the trap. I even taped the glue traps to the floor because I noticed he had just been moving them around. I crossed my fingers, turned the light out and hoped for the best.
Not twenty minutes later I was in the guest bedroom assessing the situation of sleeping in there. I had considered sleeping at a friend's, but I didn't really want to do that. I heard a faint noise that I thought was him rooting around, so I grabbed my flashlight and flashed it onto my little minefield. A rush of relief washed over me when I saw a little blob attached to the trap that had been flipped upside down. Could it really be? I rushed to the overhead light in time to see Fievel struggling to free himself from death's door. I held my breath, almost afraid he'd wring himself loose, stick his tongue out at me and run for the safety of my bed. But, to my relief, he stopped moving altogether and I waited patiently for a few minutes for him to cross over into mouse hell. Surely he wouldn't go to heaven after wreaking havoc on my life for 48 hours.
Now came the dilemma of getting him out of my house. Remember how a mouse brought out my inner little girl, I was not picking this thing up with my bare hands. He had toppled over onto a glue trap, so I knew he'd bring it with him if I picked up the trap. My creativity blossomed and I ran to the basement to grab my snow shovel. Brilliant. It still grossed me out to shovel his lifeless body into my trash, but I did it with such pleasure. Eventually his final resting place became the dumpster in the alley behind my house and I was able to release all the tension coursing through my body.
I can finally get my house and my life back. Who knew such a tiny creature could wreak such havoc on one person? I guess when you're a scaredy cat afraid of rodents, it happens.
Side note: I was not at all happy to find all the poo pellets on my sheets. It was like his own personal litter box. I will either have to boil or burn that entire set. And I also found those little poo pellets all over my kitchen. In the pantry, on the counter, in the recycling. I nearly suffocated myself with lemon Lysol cleaner trying to disinfect the entire room.
When I awoke the next morning, I carefully peered down at the floor to make sure he wasn't lying in wait to pounce on my unprotected tootsies. I grabbed the first forcefield, aka a blanket, and froze in place. There, right in front of me was a tiny disembodied tail peeking out from underneath the door. AHHHHHHH!!! It slept not 2 feet from me all night. The events of the night unfolded in my brain and I shuddered to think that he was probably trying to snuggle in my warm bed during the night. Blech! I can't describe here the severity of my shudder at the thought that HE WAS CRAWLING ALL OVER MY ARMS AND POSSIBLY MY FACE.
I had no way of grabbing him, even if I was capable of actually grabbing a live mouse by the tail. At the cool breeze from lifting the blanket, he burrowed further into his warm nest. DAMMIT. Good thing I have another door to get out of my bedroom. I proceeded to the shower, where I felt like at any moment, he was going to join me for a quick swim. Fastest shower ever, I might add. The rest of the morning went by rather easily, and I headed to Target to get a few more death traps for the little bastard. I ended up with 8 conventional traps, 8 glue traps and 2 spinning traps that were designed to not let me see the dead body. I liked that idea. I placed a total of 10 in and around my living room, kitchen and bedroom, using peanut butter as bait. Surely, one of these things would do the trick.
I got ready to leave for the day, heading to my sister's house to celebrate my niece's birthday. I took one last look under the blanket to see if Fievel was still there, and I really should have thought it through more. Fievel was in full view just staring at me as I lifted the blanket. Crud. As I thought it through to go get a box or something to cover him, he must have read my mind, because he dashed back into his hiding place. Crap, I lost my advantage of surprise.
I left the house feeling confident that he would be dead when I got home.
Fast forward 24 hours. I have never wished for my home to produce the acrid smell of rotting flesh wafting through it like I did when I came home this morning. Dead mouse smell I could handle. Another night of Fievel doing the happy dance on my forehead, I could not. I walked in and instantly I smelled my home fragrance and I was dejected. I pressed on and continued to look at every trap. Not one of them had Fievel in it. Shit. And the more I looked, I realized that ALL of the conventional traps were licked clean. Not a single trace of peanut butter remained. And not a single one of them tripped. I nearly started to cry. This can not be possible. I have the smartest, ballsiest mouse on the planet trying to be my roommate.
I shrugged it off and decided to try a trick my brother wrote me about. It involved a 5-gallon bucket, a ruler and as many traps that would fit in the bucket. I placed some PB on the end of the ruler and placed it precariously on the edge of my coffee table, pb end over the edge. Under the ruler, I placed the 5-gallon bucket with 7 set traps in the bottom. The idea is that Fievel will be desperate for the pb, walk out on the ruler, fall into the bucket and get snapped by a trap. At the very least he'll get trapped in the bucket without being able to climb up the sides. Seems like a very straight-forward plan and something an engineer would come up with. Thanks bro.
I did as he directed and proceeded to work on stuff in the rest of my house. I was sitting at my dining room table on the computer when I saw him peek from the side of the coffee table. He took stock of the bucket and tried to climb it a few times. He walked round and round and tried desperately to climb up the side of the coffee table, but it was too tall and slippery for him. Over and over again he tried to get to the little nugget of goodness on the end of the ruler. I quickly realized that I hadn't thought out how he was going to get to the ruler. I guess I thought he could get up there. He finally gave up and I got pissed. I had an opportunity to catch him and I let it go. Although, to be honest, when I started for the living room, he ran and hid for a few minutes until the noise subsided. I don't think I could have actually captured him with the box I was wielding, even if I tried. He came back a few times and tried it again and again, but would give up and just run around my couch like it was his own personal jungle gym. I could do nothing but watch him disrespect my couch, and my life, time and time again. Guess I'm going to have to burn my couch too. Bummer.
I grabbed my laptop desk that keeps my legs from getting hot when using my laptop and leaned it up against the table, hoping he would use it as a little ramp. 4 hours went by and I guess he thought it was best to stay hidden, because he didn't come out again. Shoot. I was hoping he would end his own life before bed, so I could actually sleep.
I spent the entire afternoon trying, hoping and praying that Fievel would just die already. I checked my Facebook updates and saw a couple of ideas from my dad and my brother's best friend, Keith. Keith suggested I wedge a potato chip into the trigger of the trap so the little guy would have to work at it. Dad suggested I set the trap in the middle of a square of glue traps. Well, it couldn't hurt. I already had two teeter-totter traps set up in the house and he hadn't set off either one. Might as well try something else.
I didn't have any potato chips, but I did have a nutty granola bar that I took a piece and wedged onto the underside of the trigger. I coated the bottom in peanut butter and then set the trap in the kitchen. I took four glue traps and made a square around the trap. I even taped the glue traps to the floor because I noticed he had just been moving them around. I crossed my fingers, turned the light out and hoped for the best.
Not twenty minutes later I was in the guest bedroom assessing the situation of sleeping in there. I had considered sleeping at a friend's, but I didn't really want to do that. I heard a faint noise that I thought was him rooting around, so I grabbed my flashlight and flashed it onto my little minefield. A rush of relief washed over me when I saw a little blob attached to the trap that had been flipped upside down. Could it really be? I rushed to the overhead light in time to see Fievel struggling to free himself from death's door. I held my breath, almost afraid he'd wring himself loose, stick his tongue out at me and run for the safety of my bed. But, to my relief, he stopped moving altogether and I waited patiently for a few minutes for him to cross over into mouse hell. Surely he wouldn't go to heaven after wreaking havoc on my life for 48 hours.
Now came the dilemma of getting him out of my house. Remember how a mouse brought out my inner little girl, I was not picking this thing up with my bare hands. He had toppled over onto a glue trap, so I knew he'd bring it with him if I picked up the trap. My creativity blossomed and I ran to the basement to grab my snow shovel. Brilliant. It still grossed me out to shovel his lifeless body into my trash, but I did it with such pleasure. Eventually his final resting place became the dumpster in the alley behind my house and I was able to release all the tension coursing through my body.
I can finally get my house and my life back. Who knew such a tiny creature could wreak such havoc on one person? I guess when you're a scaredy cat afraid of rodents, it happens.
Side note: I was not at all happy to find all the poo pellets on my sheets. It was like his own personal litter box. I will either have to boil or burn that entire set. And I also found those little poo pellets all over my kitchen. In the pantry, on the counter, in the recycling. I nearly suffocated myself with lemon Lysol cleaner trying to disinfect the entire room.
