Not Mickey

Living in this rural setting we have seen our share of wildlife. It is still a thrill to see a wild beast. It is not so great when they get in your house.

Ok, calling a mouse a wild beast is a little bit of a stretch. However, they have fur like a beast; they have a tail like a beast. It’s a beast.

I’ve tried to like them. If they stay outside they are free to roam the ranch. When they come inside I’m a little less tolerant. As a matter of fact, we have strategically placed blocks of mouse bait under furniture.

Once mouse bait is eaten, the mouse will look for water (hopefully outside) where he will happily drink himself to d……., well let’s just say he won’t come in our house again.

Since moving out here we’ve had a few sneak into the house. Last night I turned on the bathroom light and found myself sharing the bathroom with a mouse. This intruder didn’t appear to be in the bathroom to help girl twin with her Cinderella gown. He didn’t seem to have a Ratatouille recipe. This mouse was here to run beneath my bed and eat our dog food.

I put out a couple of traps and went to bed. I didn’t feel sorry for him. Over the years a few of his fellow mice have been worthy adversaries. It took days to trap them. I give them every opportunity to leave.

This morning girl twin walks up and announces “Monner, there is a dead mouse in the toilet”

Me: “Flush the toilet”

Girl Twin: “With the mouse in there?”

Me: “He doesn’t care”

A few minutes later I asked the kids if they took care of the mouse

Girl Twin: “I flushed him”

Me: “Really, you didn’t use the toilet did you?”

Girl Twin: and Other Female Inhabitants of the House: “Why?”

Me: “What if he is alive and didn’t go down?”

They won’t be using that bathroom for a while!

Our crazy lives!

Monner