The Great Mouse Hunters Strike Again
Woke up this morning to Andrea telling me the cats think there is a mouse under the fridge. Great way to start the day. Though when you have four cats clustered around the front of the fridge, you have to figure something’s up. So there’s me, barely awake, shining a light and trying to see any sign that the cats are crazy or not. Nope, turns out there’s a weeeee little nose moving behind one of the back legs. OK, so slide the fridge forwards and see what happens then.
Not so good. Now the mouse got himself into a small tunnel in the drywall and is trying to make it’s way up the wall. The cat, convinced that we didn’t understand what was going on, turned herself inside out rubbing up against the corner to let us know that this is her mouse dammit, and if we can’t figure that out she’s just going to turn herself inside out again.
OK, so here’s me again, flashlight in one hand, butter knife i the other, and towel at the ready. You do know where your towel is right? Oh, and my fearless wife standing across the room to manage the operation. I got the idea of making a hidey-hole with the towel to convince the mouse that it had somewhere safe to go instead of the wall as I slide the knife down the crack between the drywall boards to push it down. Turned out it worked, the mouse ran into the towel perfectly, but I wasn’t fast enough grabbing it and it went under the towel and around into a hole leading under the bottom of the cupboard with the sink in it.
Now at least it couldn’t get out, except through a small hole at the front, just small enough I could see his beady little eyes and roaming tail. Being stupid, I figured maybe I could reach in and grab him. Being smart, the mouse simply bit my finger. Next try was a hand covered with a dishtowel, which of course meant I couldn’t see anything at all.
Luckily a second attempt at the “hey, look at this safe dark place in what definitely isn’t a dishtowel” ploy worked, and Mr. Mouse came out of the cupboard and ran along the edge of the kitchen until I finally managed to get a towel on him, and then my hands around the towel. He was a slippery little bugger too, and only by luck did I manage to get his tail in between my fingers through the towel to keep him from squirming out and getting free again. Andrea, still managing the operation from across the room, opted not to take a picture of my victory as the mouse was “traumatized enough already”. Bah, a little makeup, hot lights and a photo shoot relax people right?
He then got his one “Get out of a horrible death by being eaten by a creature 100x your size with bone crushing jaws after being tormented and tortured for hours on end” card and was deposited unceremoniously down the bank of the creek in the backyard.
I’m thinking I really need a cat with mouse in mouth detecting cat door.
Just to explain the rules, passed down from years of cat ownership, of mice (or any other small critters) in the house. Basically if the critter is alive and in good shape (ie: can still move, squeak, or skitter), it gets freed and put somewhere safe. If not, well, the cats will have gotten it anyway. I’m just glad we got this one before it expired hidden away where the cats couldn’t get them and started to smell like the last one….
