There’s a moose loose aboot this hoose
I saw a mouse!
There on the stair!
Where on the stair?
A little mouse with clogs on
Well I declare!
Going clip-clippety-clop on the stair
We don’t have any stairs. That didn’t stop the mouse though. This is the second mouse who has chosen to move in with us since we moved here. The first took up residence in the cupboard where I kept my baking supplies. It took me a few days to realise why all the corners of my flour bags were torn and by the time I did said rodent had gleefully romped his way through several bags of flour and a lot of sugar. I had stocked up on flour for moving over here but after finding mouse poop in the bags I was forced to throw a lot of them away which was pretty gutting. I retaliated by putting all of our foodstuffs into Tupperware boxes and then breaking the mouse’s neck. At least he had a good last supper.
Mouse number two found slimmer pickings. He manfully (or mousefully) chewed at a bottle of chocolate sauce creating rather a lot of blue sawdust but he didn’t manage to breach my defences. (I threw the bottle away anyway since it was 3 years out of date). He tore up one of my washing up sponges though so he was clearly planning to set up camp. We no longer had the trap we had used for mouse no.1; instead we set a new fangled plastic version which did not look vicious enough in my opinion.
A couple of nights ago I was awoken by Max (our very annoying Great Dane) traipsing around the kitchen. He woke up Sally too which so enraged me that I got out of my bed at 1am and took him down to my Dads shed to sleep with the other dogs. This was not the cruel punishment it might sound. Max has a strange love hate relationship with my Dad’s collie Spud (think Brokeback Mountain) and the two star crossed lovers could not wait to be reunited. At 4am I was woken by a loud clattering and immediately thought what a lot of noise Max was making. Then I realised that even if Max was making a lot of noise it would be unlikely that I would be hearing it from the shed. I isolated the sound to the kitchen cupboard containing the mouse trap. Sadly I was too afraid to open the door and after standing shivering in my pyjamas for a while I decided I was going to need to bring in some assistance. Allan was not amused at being woken up at 4am. Even when I informed him that he needed to deal with the mouse in a manly fashion he didn’t seem particularly keen.
I stood vigil in the living room doorway as he gingerly opened the cupboard door. The mouse had its leg caught in the trap. Allan knocked it onto the floor and brought his foot down ready to smite the mouse. Sadly he missed and somehow hit the trap, freeing the mouse and breaking the trap in the process. The mouse promptly disappeared and after swearing under his breath for a few minutes so did Allan.
The next morning we were faced with the grim reality of the fact that there was probably a rodent somewhere at large in our kitchen. Allan may have rolled his eyes when I started moving the cooker but my mouse hunting senses are finely honed and lo and behold there it was – mooching around behind the cooker no doubt looking for something to chew.
It’s funny that whilst I have performed post mortems on corpses that are really long past their sell by dates without batting a nostril I am really rather squeamish when it comes to mice. I must confess that I took up residence on top of a chair whilst Allan chased the mouse into an old washing powder box with only a broom to protect him. Sally and Helen were both in their high chairs so it seemed fair enough. Helen was unperturbed by the situation and provided helpful advice to Allan such as ‘get it daddy, get it’.
The mouse safely vanquished I bleached my cupboards – obviously I want them to be spick and span for the next rodent who moves in. It’s not all bad though; apparently if you have mice it means you don’t have rats!