A few days ago Husband and I were standing in the kitchen when we heard a strange sound. After some searching I saw the tail end of a cute little mouse scurrying away behind our microwave. We pulled out the microwave to discover that he had disappeared. We pulled out the refrigerator as well. We could hear him but not see him. Suddenly all was quiet. Husband was scared that he’d squooshed him when he pulled out the fridge. By now our doxie has come to investigate and stands in front of the refrigerator whining to alert us.
As we stand there discussing the possibilities, the mouse suddenly scampers behind my husband and into a hole next to the cabinets we’d never noticed before. Brilliant hunter that he is, my doxie does not take notice.
After that, Husband starts shredding up last weeks’ Time magazine to fill the hole, despite my telling him that it will never work. As he sets himself to the pointless task, I hear the mouse traipsing around under the sink. Oh, so that’s why we keep getting holes in the trash bags. The futile task is now abandoned and we pull everything out from under the sink to discover mouse poop.
As we clean it up, Husband starts talking about capturing it and releasing it outside. How does he plan to do that, I ask? He has no idea. Hilarity was about to ensue but the mouse got smart and went somewhere more quiet where he couldn’t be detected. We give up and go to watch TV.
The next day I tell my co-worker about the mouse (I’m shameless) and she tells me that we need to get spray foam and fill the hole. Now that makes sense! I tell Husband and surprise! I’m sent off on my lunch break to procure it in the freezing cold Boston weather (on foot). The hardware store is, of course, located roughly half a mile away.
That night we plug the hole but discover that there is a hole around the water valve under the sink that the foam is no way going to fill. Husband tries anyway, despite my protests, emptying the can and no doubt creating a huge pain in the ass for any plumber we might need in the future. Sigh.
All this morning I hear a strange sound from the kitchen. I imagine that the mouse (mice?) is trapped under the cabinet now. I start to think how much it’s going to suck when it starves, dies and starts to stink. Then the cost and annoyance of having someone come in and rip out the cabinet s to remove the body – but only after my totally unhandy hubby tries to do it first, bungling the job and making a huge mess.
Tonight I discovered mouse poop under the sink again. So. The mouse is able to get into the cabinet but probably can’t get out to the rest of the house (we think). I tell Husband and now he says that we have to feed it, lest it starve, until we can go get a humane trap and release it somewhere whereupon it will most likely beeline back to our condo and find a way back in.
So what did we do? I put some dog food under the sink. Husband said I should have used crackers because he thinks they would like them better. I respond that dog food probably has more nutrients. He agrees.
The dog food is gone.
So I asked Husband again where he plans to release them when they climb politely into the no kill traps he plans to buy. He suggested an aquarium if there are several of them. I promptly vetoed this idea in light of how aggravating this would be to our doxie. He then, quite seriously, stated that it would need to be somewhere warm. Boy, did they wander into the right condo.
If our dog is any indication, they’ll soon be wearing clothes.
Dear mouse (or mice),
I don’t want you to die. I just want you to get out of my house. We should talk.