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The Green Mouser
Sep. 25th, 2005 11:58 pmI all but forgot to write that we evicted another mouse today.
The cats, you see, have been laying down on the job. Or, more accurately, they've been wandering the house, whining. "There's a mouse in the house!" they yowl. "Make it go away!"
I try and explain that they're the mousers, not me, but it's of no avail. The mouse is very scary, thus confirming my earlier supposition that the mouse Munchkin caught a few weeks ago must have leapt into her mouth.
Fortunately, Kibmerly had a humane mouse trap, and we put it out after the previous mouse incident. Today, Kimberly and I were standing in the kitchen, and Munchkin was doing her stalking-the-refrigerator thing, which she's been doing during this whole mouse interlude.
"Munchkin insists there's a mouse over there," I said. I've been saying this for weeks, because repetition is funny.
"Munchkin insists there's a mouse over there," I said.
Now, we cleverly had set up the humane mouse trap right next to the fridge, because that's where the cats kept insisting the mouse was setting up camp. So after staring at me for a moment, Kimberly then pushed the cat out of the way, and exclaimed, "There is!"
We'd caught a mouse in the humane mouse trap. It was a cute little brown critter, definitely a different mouse than the one terrorized by the cats a few weeks ago.
So, I pulled on my shoes and hauled my lazy ass, the humane mouse trap, and the mouse about a mile away to the localest park at which point I released it amongst the foliage.
Which is to say I opened the door to the trap, and the mouse continued its sniffing around the trap, ignoring the open door. And then I turned the trap on its side, and the mouse clung on for dear life and refused to fall. And then I finally just put the trap on the ground, door still open, leaned back, and waited.
And suddenly the mouse sprung out of the trap like it had springs in its legs. It must have covered four or five times its body length in that first spring, and then it went fleeing into the foliage.
And then I hiked home, going back to my interrupted lunch. (We were in the kitchen for a reason, you see.)
"Munchkin insists there's a mouse over there," I said. And there was.
"Two mice in the house means more mice in the house," Kimberly said. We'll see.
The cats, you see, have been laying down on the job. Or, more accurately, they've been wandering the house, whining. "There's a mouse in the house!" they yowl. "Make it go away!"
I try and explain that they're the mousers, not me, but it's of no avail. The mouse is very scary, thus confirming my earlier supposition that the mouse Munchkin caught a few weeks ago must have leapt into her mouth.
Fortunately, Kibmerly had a humane mouse trap, and we put it out after the previous mouse incident. Today, Kimberly and I were standing in the kitchen, and Munchkin was doing her stalking-the-refrigerator thing, which she's been doing during this whole mouse interlude.
"Munchkin insists there's a mouse over there," I said. I've been saying this for weeks, because repetition is funny.
"Munchkin insists there's a mouse over there," I said.
Now, we cleverly had set up the humane mouse trap right next to the fridge, because that's where the cats kept insisting the mouse was setting up camp. So after staring at me for a moment, Kimberly then pushed the cat out of the way, and exclaimed, "There is!"
We'd caught a mouse in the humane mouse trap. It was a cute little brown critter, definitely a different mouse than the one terrorized by the cats a few weeks ago.
So, I pulled on my shoes and hauled my lazy ass, the humane mouse trap, and the mouse about a mile away to the localest park at which point I released it amongst the foliage.
Which is to say I opened the door to the trap, and the mouse continued its sniffing around the trap, ignoring the open door. And then I turned the trap on its side, and the mouse clung on for dear life and refused to fall. And then I finally just put the trap on the ground, door still open, leaned back, and waited.
And suddenly the mouse sprung out of the trap like it had springs in its legs. It must have covered four or five times its body length in that first spring, and then it went fleeing into the foliage.
And then I hiked home, going back to my interrupted lunch. (We were in the kitchen for a reason, you see.)
"Munchkin insists there's a mouse over there," I said. And there was.
"Two mice in the house means more mice in the house," Kimberly said. We'll see.