eight blind mice

The mouse population has grown in our home. The population, that is, of dead mice. Yesterday and this morning were the clinchers. Yesterday I asked Sam the usual morning question. "Would you like to go and check the mouse traps?" He really enjoys dead things. Morbid, I know. He was yelling for me to come downstairs to see the trap that sprang, was licked free of peanut butter, and beheld no objects in the shape of a small rodent. So I rounded the corner and was heading back upstairs when I saw a movement. There, peeking up at me was a cute little mouse. The kids started yelling, "DON'T KILL IT MOMMY!!!". So what is a mother supposed to do? Secretly kill it behind their backs? Let it roam free so as not to squish two little hearts who are looking adoringly at the beady eyed invader? I quickly looked around to see what I could squash it with and found nothing. I came up and called Ed. "How do you kill a live mouse?" I was armed with a plastic cup to capture it, went back downstairs and it was gone. I picked up my exercise mat and tapped it on the floor, out jumped the mouse, me following it with a cup and it leaping to safety under the couch. DRAT!

Sam was even so considerate to peel off all of his crust from his toast and leave it on the floor to feed the mouse. Thank you my son.

This morning I awake to this: "jean" in a hushed whisper. "JEan". "JEAN!". I was then awake. Came downstairs and Ed said, "Look". There in the middle of the kitchen floor was my small little tin tub that is usually on top of the washing machine, upside down. My mind was still a bit foggy and was asked, "do you know what's in there?" I squeemishly replied, "a mouse?". Bingo. He said he saw it running around the dining room was able to cover it up and right before the tub went over it, it just gave a little innocent look at him. What to do next? I suggested putting a mouse trap under there with it and let that kill it. So downstairs I went to get the mouse trap I had set for yesterdays live mouse, thinking that was the mouse that managed to make it upstairs. I yelled up to Ed, "It wasn't the mouse that was down here!" I still need to empty that trap. So we tried to set the mouse trap, but it went off right when Ed put the tub over it. Paper bag with a little tub and jumping mouse inside worked wonders. Then transfered to a plastic bag. Then like a grape juice stomping party, but in pajamas, the fun began. Three out of four of us were outside on the back deck making a quick demise to the rodent who wasn't so smart to show its face in our home. I sat inside hoping I was going to be able to eat today.

So now, death blocks are strategically placed all around the perimeter of the house. Death food. Lucky mice. Talks of getting a mouser are more and more now.

Now as dusk falls I sit here and think I see running things across the floor and hear rustling, scratching sounds. Ahhhh the imagination does wonders.