Call the SPCA
Today, I came face to face with the enemy.
I mean, there has been certain... evidence... that a certain pest has been visiting my kitchen at night. A few weeks ago I had Dan put wire mesh around the ductwork and pipes in the cabinet under the sink ... I was trying to convince him that the black specs under the sink were mouse droppings, and he was trying to convince me they were not, but he's a good guy and he did what I asked anyway. Once the holes were blocked up, I bleached and scrubbed and reorganized until all trace of the pestilence was gone. And every morning with joyful satisfaction I open the doors to a sparkling under-sink area. I'd let my 2 year old eat off the floor of that cabinet now. Mission Accomplished.
But the little telltale specs started popping up near the dishwasher this week. The little bastard found another way in. I know it's the pipes around the dishwasher. We need to pull it out and fill the holes around the pipes.
Today between conference calls I was tossing a ball out in the yard with Mercury the Wonderdog and he starts sniffing around by the red wheelbarrow, upside down in the yard. Sure enough I hear something thumping around under there. A few half hearted pounces from my lazy-ass canine friend and sure enough, a little fluff of grey mousehood darts out from under the wheelbarrow and into a patch of grass near the basement bulkhead doors.
The internet is an amazing place. Over the next hour I learned that this was not just any pest -- it was Mus Musculus (a little known Marvel villain). It can squeeze through almost any 1/4" hole. It can shit 40-60 times a day on my kitchen floor. It can live off crumbs, dried spills, dog food (and if there is anything we have in abundance around here it is crumbs, dried spills, and dog food -- Hell-O, can you say life with a toddler??). It can reproduce 8 times in its one year life span, with multiple babies in each litter. And wondrous, almost magical, the teeth just keep growing and growing nonstop throughout its life -- it MUST chew on things to keep its teeth worn down enough to function normally. (But really the most wondrous magical thing is that it shits 40-60 times a day).
In the abstract it was a gross disgusting invasion of the most sacred room in my home -- my hearth! But then I met the critter face to face and well, the struggle sucks. Since my slobhound doesn't leave much in the way of food at night, and I have tried to be diligent about cleaning up spills when they happen, and we never leave food out, the mouse food is in short supply. What then, keeps him coming back? Is he looking for sanctuary, taking the chill off for a few hours in my warm house? Is he paying homage to the weeks-old stainless steel 5 burner dual fuel 2-oven Jenn Air? Is he lost?
I used to hate driving. I did not have a lot of experience -- I didn't really drive after leaving high school. I didn't take a car to college, and I lived in cities with good public transportation afterwards. But when we ended up in Boston in 2000, I had to do a little more driving on my own. I learned cautiously the 10 block comfort zone around our Cambridge Apt but never strayed beyond that one my own.
One day there was a dying squirrel in my back yard. It was bleeding and broken. I don't know if it fell from a tree or dragged itself into the yard from a car wreck. I called Animal Control and a host of other public works offices, with the same response -- they all told me to leave it alone, nature would take it's course, but they could come get it for the price of $100 (!!!). A call to Dan who was in B-School class at the time, ended with my sobbing after he asked me if I could take a shovel and "finish the job"... I called the Animal Rescue League and told them of my plight... they agreed to come pick up the squirrel to see if it could be rehabilitated, but it would be 5 hours. I told them I couldn't wait that long, and they said I could bring it to their "ER" myself. It was 8:30AM, and the ARL office was in downtown Boston. I put on my best rubber kitchen gloves, put the squirrel in a cardboard box and covered it up with a little tea towel and mapquested my way through the morning rush with my special charge. When I arrived they told me there was nothing they could do, so I filled out the paperwork and authorized them (authorized them! Me! Like I "Owned" the squirrel!) to euthanize the poor soul. (They did offer to give me the tea towel back, but I declined). Although it was a pivotal day in my driving career (it's been smooth sailing since), I was racked by guilt and nightmares and what ifs about the stupid squirrel for many days after.
So therein lies the dilemma with Mr. Mouse today. I cannot co-exist peacefully with this vermin in my kitchen. And yet I cannot bring myself to set traps or put out poison (both of which are dangerous with kids and dogs around anyway). Another Google search yielded many creative ways of solving the problem -- ranging from instant mashed potatoes (apparently the mouse will explode if he eats too many of them and then drinks water... I'm skeptical and it's gross anyway), to an elaborate contraption with a coffee can and a vat of bacon grease and water which guarantees a "humane death by drowning" (?)
Depending on its age, it could have 5, 6, 7 or even all 8 of it's reproductive cycles left! And it could have six inches of ungrown teeth and 3,600 more "deposits" to drop. I can't kill it. I don't want it to die, I just want it to move out.
So instead I'll be spending this weekend plugging every 1/4 inch hole in my kitchen with a combination of steel wool, dryer sheets, mothballs and essence of peppermint. I mean, who doesn't have time for that? And if that doesn't work, well -- his lifespan is only a year anyway, right?
I mean, there has been certain... evidence... that a certain pest has been visiting my kitchen at night. A few weeks ago I had Dan put wire mesh around the ductwork and pipes in the cabinet under the sink ... I was trying to convince him that the black specs under the sink were mouse droppings, and he was trying to convince me they were not, but he's a good guy and he did what I asked anyway. Once the holes were blocked up, I bleached and scrubbed and reorganized until all trace of the pestilence was gone. And every morning with joyful satisfaction I open the doors to a sparkling under-sink area. I'd let my 2 year old eat off the floor of that cabinet now. Mission Accomplished.
But the little telltale specs started popping up near the dishwasher this week. The little bastard found another way in. I know it's the pipes around the dishwasher. We need to pull it out and fill the holes around the pipes.
Today between conference calls I was tossing a ball out in the yard with Mercury the Wonderdog and he starts sniffing around by the red wheelbarrow, upside down in the yard. Sure enough I hear something thumping around under there. A few half hearted pounces from my lazy-ass canine friend and sure enough, a little fluff of grey mousehood darts out from under the wheelbarrow and into a patch of grass near the basement bulkhead doors.
The internet is an amazing place. Over the next hour I learned that this was not just any pest -- it was Mus Musculus (a little known Marvel villain). It can squeeze through almost any 1/4" hole. It can shit 40-60 times a day on my kitchen floor. It can live off crumbs, dried spills, dog food (and if there is anything we have in abundance around here it is crumbs, dried spills, and dog food -- Hell-O, can you say life with a toddler??). It can reproduce 8 times in its one year life span, with multiple babies in each litter. And wondrous, almost magical, the teeth just keep growing and growing nonstop throughout its life -- it MUST chew on things to keep its teeth worn down enough to function normally. (But really the most wondrous magical thing is that it shits 40-60 times a day).
In the abstract it was a gross disgusting invasion of the most sacred room in my home -- my hearth! But then I met the critter face to face and well, the struggle sucks. Since my slobhound doesn't leave much in the way of food at night, and I have tried to be diligent about cleaning up spills when they happen, and we never leave food out, the mouse food is in short supply. What then, keeps him coming back? Is he looking for sanctuary, taking the chill off for a few hours in my warm house? Is he paying homage to the weeks-old stainless steel 5 burner dual fuel 2-oven Jenn Air? Is he lost?
I used to hate driving. I did not have a lot of experience -- I didn't really drive after leaving high school. I didn't take a car to college, and I lived in cities with good public transportation afterwards. But when we ended up in Boston in 2000, I had to do a little more driving on my own. I learned cautiously the 10 block comfort zone around our Cambridge Apt but never strayed beyond that one my own.
One day there was a dying squirrel in my back yard. It was bleeding and broken. I don't know if it fell from a tree or dragged itself into the yard from a car wreck. I called Animal Control and a host of other public works offices, with the same response -- they all told me to leave it alone, nature would take it's course, but they could come get it for the price of $100 (!!!). A call to Dan who was in B-School class at the time, ended with my sobbing after he asked me if I could take a shovel and "finish the job"... I called the Animal Rescue League and told them of my plight... they agreed to come pick up the squirrel to see if it could be rehabilitated, but it would be 5 hours. I told them I couldn't wait that long, and they said I could bring it to their "ER" myself. It was 8:30AM, and the ARL office was in downtown Boston. I put on my best rubber kitchen gloves, put the squirrel in a cardboard box and covered it up with a little tea towel and mapquested my way through the morning rush with my special charge. When I arrived they told me there was nothing they could do, so I filled out the paperwork and authorized them (authorized them! Me! Like I "Owned" the squirrel!) to euthanize the poor soul. (They did offer to give me the tea towel back, but I declined). Although it was a pivotal day in my driving career (it's been smooth sailing since), I was racked by guilt and nightmares and what ifs about the stupid squirrel for many days after.
So therein lies the dilemma with Mr. Mouse today. I cannot co-exist peacefully with this vermin in my kitchen. And yet I cannot bring myself to set traps or put out poison (both of which are dangerous with kids and dogs around anyway). Another Google search yielded many creative ways of solving the problem -- ranging from instant mashed potatoes (apparently the mouse will explode if he eats too many of them and then drinks water... I'm skeptical and it's gross anyway), to an elaborate contraption with a coffee can and a vat of bacon grease and water which guarantees a "humane death by drowning" (?)
Depending on its age, it could have 5, 6, 7 or even all 8 of it's reproductive cycles left! And it could have six inches of ungrown teeth and 3,600 more "deposits" to drop. I can't kill it. I don't want it to die, I just want it to move out.
So instead I'll be spending this weekend plugging every 1/4 inch hole in my kitchen with a combination of steel wool, dryer sheets, mothballs and essence of peppermint. I mean, who doesn't have time for that? And if that doesn't work, well -- his lifespan is only a year anyway, right?
posted by Martha Who? | 7:34 PM
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