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Posts Tagged ‘mice’

I love my husband. I think he ranks right up there as far as husbands go. The man is a saint, putting up without (serious) complaint, with my illnesses and scatterbrainedness. He strives to see the good in everything and very frequently succeeds. Even though he knew it would mean more work for him, he got a dog because he believed a dog would be good for his children (and found out that he loves the dog probably more than they do). He doesn’t love cats, but he allowed me to get those for the kids too.

But he hates rodents. And snakes. If I were creating the perfect husband, I’d take J and make him more animal-friendly. But he isn’t. I didn’t realize this before I impulsively bought a tiny cute mouse with Maya when she was 3 years old. Cheapest pet ever – $10 all in for animal, cage, food, etc. He was horrified. It never ocurred to me that something so small could horrify a grown man. It was nothing compared to the horror he felt when our ‘baby’ mouse had her own babies about a week later.

He shuddered through the mouse’s short life cycle and it was clear, once she went to mousie heaven, that I was never ever to bring a rodent into this house again. I already knew about the snakes, since I’d told him about my pet snakes I’d had as a teenager and in university and he’d made it very, very clear what he thought of that idea.

So I’d love a pet rat or two. I was surprised by how taken I was by the ones I met the other day. And I’d love a snake. They have all kinds of pretty and interesting ones available now, not like the garter snakes I made do with when I was a kid. But I love my husband more.

If he ever snaps and leaves me, though, I’ll go out and get another cat and a couple pet rats to keep me company.

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Mousy murder

We have mice in our cold storage room in the basement, and in the closets down there. We keep the extra dog food in a storage closet along with tons of other crap, and when I took out my winter boots, they were filled with dog food. They also got inside the gift I was keeping for my 5-year-old nephew – a set of kid-sized tools from Home Depot and filled his little tool belt up with food too. That made for a more amusing gift-opening experience. He was so happy he has his very own level and chalk line, he didn’t care.

So J did the manly thing when we found the boot full of food and set out traps in the cold storage room. The mouse find their way in every fall, no matter how many little cracks J stops up with steel wool. The kids refuse to go in when this happens, making it easier for me to hide gifts from them.

But today, our remaining cat, Roxy, got into the room unsupervised. Predator that she is, she found one trap under the shelving and dragged it out to the middle of the basement. Traps themselves aren’t so easy for a cat to carry, but when there is a nice, plump mouse in it, it’s a snap – so to speak.

Maya found the result, which is a bad thing. She came screaming upstairs, raving about “blood everywhere”! I didn’t panic. Maya exaggerates. A lot. Sure enough, there was a dead mouse, caught in the trap only by maybe a lip (eeewwww!), but I think Roxy did it a favour and finished it off. The ‘blood everywhere’ turned out to be a smear on the trap itself.

The positive side to all this is that Maya has now announced she will never again go down to the basement and since that is where the TV is, maybe she’ll never watch TV again. I wouldn’t count on it, but then again, I wouldn’t put it past her, either. When she was four years old and we lived in a different house, I flushed a wasp that got inside down the toilet on the main level and she refused to use that toilet ever after, convinced the wasp was going to swim back up and bite her on the butt. That’s only mildly insane when you are four, although she did irritatingly keep it up the whole summer until we moved. But what pushes it over the top is that this summer, she remembered the incident and now refuses to use the ground floor toilet in this house, which has basically the same lay-out.

I totally understand why people chose not to have children, given that they suck very life out of you for 20 years or so, but I do feel a little sorry for those who live the stable, expected life that comes from not living with these unpredictable, insane little creatures. Like, for example, an 11 year old who refuses must go upstairs to pee because her mother flushed a wasp down the main floor toilet in another house 7 years ago. I giggle every time I think of it.

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