I awoke with a start last night, to Hubby standing in the middle of the bedroom, talking to me rather excitedly. It took me a minute to clear the cobwebs and comprehend what he was saying. Something about a tail sticking out of a cupboard and his need for some pliers.
I heard him in the kitchen and my mind finally registered what he was talking about.
The other day he was taking the garbage out from under the kitchen sink and said "I think I see some mouse droppings under here." Oh great. We have mice. When we were still in the construction phase, the garage door got left open one night and after that we started seeing tiny little mouse footprints in the sawdust, as well as droppings. We put traps around and actually caught three or four of the critters. Not too much later we moved in, with our two cats, and haven't had a problem since. Until the other day. We'd been noticing Murphy the cat sitting in front of the kitchen sink, watching the cupboard rather intently too and figured our furry friends were back. So Josh put a trap under the sink.
And apparently we had a visitor last night. Whose midnight adventures didn't end well.
The story was relayed to me that Hubby heard something clattering around in the kitchen and went out to investigate where he saw a tail sticking out of the cupboard door. First he went and got Murphy off of Sam's bed, as backup I guess, and then went and got pliers with which to grab the invading rodent, only to discover that Mr. Mouse was caught in the trap by his leg and not dead. Hence the clattering around under the sink. So Hubby grabbed the mouse and the trap and took them outside, where he tossed the whole thing into a puddle. While Hubby was outside taking the mouse to meet his Maker, Murphy was inside crying and caterwauling about not being able to do his duty and take care of the mouse himself. I appreciate the interest but would rather not find mouse parts scattered all over my kitchen first thing in the morning.
Ah, the joys of country livin'.
Happy Monday!
4 comments:
EEWWW! I will never, ever forget the night I woke to my dad stomping and cussing all over the house trying to kill a mouse; it grossed me the hell out that he was going to stomp it death!
ACK!!! Oh how I hate rodents! Seriously. Hate. Rodents.
When we lived in Brooklyn we had a mouse that would sneak inside at night and eat our dog's food. Our dog would just sit there and watch it too! Eventually we caught it but it was pretty gross.
Poor mickey mouse.
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