If you've been reading for any length of time, you know I've had more than one run-in with rodents. There was the dust-bunny mouse, the "welcome to your cabin" mouse (a story I still need to tell), and last year's dead squirrel in the leaf pile. Oh, and the bat we caught in our first house. I need to share that story too, since I know you only come here for my epic battles with rodentia.
So yesterday when I found mouse poop in the basement, I immediately got the heebie jeebies. Jeff baited the traps and this morning I ventured down to throw some laundry in, prepared to see a mouse dead in one of the two traps.
Instead, both traps were missing.
I texted Jeff: "Where did you set the mouse traps?"
He responded: "In the usual places."
I texted back: "They are both missing. Have I mentioned recently how glad I am that you're the boy?"
Hunting for a mouse half dead in a trap it has dragged into a corner is DEFINITELY a boy job.
When Jeff got home he informed me it wasn't a job he was too thrilled about either. I informed him that I gave birth to four children--girl job. Half dead mouse--boy job. That's tough to argue with.
He looked around a bit and found one empty trap. Then he came upstairs with the news that when he shined his flashlight between the boxes under the stairs he could hear the mouse rattling a trap.
"I birthed your children," I responded.
Then I started to wonder just how big this bleeping mouse was to get caught in the trap, drag it all the way under the stairs and still be alive?
Jeff took care of the bugger, and he was apparently pretty big, since he had his HEAD caught in the trap (and not a humane trap, sorry folks) and it didn't kill him.
More heebie jeebies.
We caught a second, smaller mouse tonight, and Jeff will be outside with the caulk tomorrow.
Here's hoping I won't have to play the birth card too many more times.