I've been wondering whether to fess up to this one. I think I've come to the conclusion that I'm not the first person this has happened to, so I might as well admit it's going on. I suspect it's not I who will bear the brunt of the shame, but the mighty hunters who aren't doing their jobs.
First, the main lesson we learned: Storing dog food and bird seed in one's garage in the original bags they came in is UNWISE. Late in the fall, some little field mice must have discovered we had a warm garage with unlimited yummies, and three dogs who spend lots of time there. However, those doggies were wrapped up in their own drama (illness, disability, eternal longing for food and cuddles), and none of us discovered that the teeny beasties moved in until the winter was nearly over. This means it wasn't just a couple of stragglers who found the hospitable digs. They were there for at least one or two generations of mommy mice and daddy mice to meet and fall in love. By the time we found where they nested, we were uncovering clutches of pinkies.
If nothing else, this explains why Athena suddenly freaked out around Christmas and started hissing at her mousie toys, but then it also means she is a total wuss and worthless at being a cat. If anyone deserves to be shamed, it is she.
I am married to a guy who has literally pulled over on a California highway, grabbed a couple of sticks, and shooed a rattlesnake off of the road. He brakes and swerves driving on the interstate to avoid butterflies and birds. He buys dried corn to feed squirrels. There is no chance in hell that he will put down glue traps or spring traps for mice. He bought the kind that is an actual trap, to catch and release them. At first, he imagined he would put them in some sort of tank until warmer weather when he could turn them loose in a field. He learned quickly that mice are smarter than that. But since then, we have found two of them drowned in the dog's inside water bucket, three in traps to take up to the country north of town to be released, and one deceased mouse on the floor of the downstairs bathroom, missing his tail and foot. We didn't know who the killer was, but I suspected Jackie. She seems like the professional huntress type. Today, one turned up in the laundry room, directly under the plastic bin where we keep the cat food. Jackie and Harvey both notified me it was there, and in an attempt to catch it, Mother Nature's Son chased it across the room to behind the washer and dryer. He set the trap and we got on with our efforts to clean up for the gang to come over.
Half of the way through the game tonight, the three men sitting on the side of the table with a view of the laundry room said, "Harvey has a mouse." I asked whether they mean he had a toy, and they said no, it was a real one. A real dead one. At one point he had dropped it, made eye contact with the guys, grabbed it, and ran down to the basement bathroom to put it where he put the last one. (Now at least we know who it was.) So obviously at that point I had to come clean to the assembled guests that yes, we accidentally invited these little guys in by buying a "buy 2 get 1" sale on giant bags of bird seed, and then leaving them in a stack in the garage for two or three months. I don't know how hard this is going to be to make sure all of them are removed, but at least I can count on Harvey to do his real job as a cat. Glad he came along. Athena talks a good game, but she's worthless. It's a good thing you're pretty, Athena.
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