Critter adventures

Now that the temperature has dropped around here we have some tiny furry friends trying to share the house with us. We have been finding mouse droppings in various areas over tha last few weeks, and in the beginning the warfare was moderate--put all the food in containers, wipe the counters with bleach, make sure there are no water sources, etc. I read on the Internet that mice abhor peppermint oil and will stay away if you put some on cotton balls and drop it where you think they are coming in the house. It sounded like a humane enough idea, so I tried it. Also installed a sonic deterrent in the kitchen.

The next day, more poops, right on the countertop under the sonic deterrent. The house has a lovely smell of peppermint to mask the unsightly countertop turds. So we ramped it up a bit and got some catch and release traps, still trying to respect these creatures' right to life. No luck after several days.

The turning point came one night after dinner. We usually put our dishes on the counter, put the kids to bed, and then clean up afterwards. So a few nights ago I put Cora to bed and headed back into the kitchen to do the dishes. As I'm standing at the counter a mouse ran right across a plate and jumped behind the refrigerator. That was the last straw. I wanted that sucker dead. His right to life ended when he licked my dinner plate. He poked his nose out from under the fridge a few times to see if we were still there, so I turned on all the lights to keep him there. At this point it became clear to me that mice must pass on two golden rules to their young:
1. If you smell peanut butter, don't eat it. It's a trap.
2. Never let the humans see you in their own house. Then they will REALLY try to kill you.

I could tell this mouse knew he had violated the second sacred rule and would shortly be dead. Happy to oblige, I went to Lowe's for what the salesman called the "mouse electric chair" and some glue traps. I surrounded the fridge in a ring of death, went into the living room, turned on a movie with Kate, and waited. Not three minutes later we heard a "squeak, squeak!" and found the varmint stuck fast to the glue board. Kate wanted to peel him off the board and set him free. I assured her that wouldn't be feasible. If he had only gone into the electric chair it would have been so much easier. But we had to throw him in a trash bag and take him to a dumpster down the road, to asphyxiate slowly or freeze in the night. I felt bad for a little while--it doesn't feel right to extinguish life--but sure felt good knowing there was one less mouse around. I put a glue board behind our entertainment center and another beside the fridge and we went to bed.

The next morning we were happy to find clean countertops and no sign of mice anywhere. We made breakfast as usual, Cora ran around while Oliver played in the living room. Kate and I ducked our heads in occasionally to check on him and he was always playing contentedly with some toys or pulling up on the bookshelf. I had just checked on Oliver not even two minutes before when Kate looked into the living room and didn't see him. She went in to find him and I heard an "Oh no! Brian, come here!" I ran in to find Kate pulling Oliver out from behind the entertainment center, his hand glued to the mouse board. Turns out there's just enough room for a baby to get back there. He's an observant little guy--never been back there before, but then again there's never been a glue board to play with. Obviously the mouse wasn't the only curious critter in the house. Luckily it was non-toxic glue, we pulled Oliver out of it, and he's still in one piece. And we haven't seen any mouse poops since then.