In search of the elusive house mouse
Is there anything more stealthy than a house mouse?
Several times over the past week I’d be sitting in my room reading and some swift bit of shadow would slide across my peripheral vision. I’d turn and see nothing and think nothing of it and go back to my book.
And then, a few days ago, my head was positioned toward the door and that swift thing was not a shadow but an actual scampering small, dark entity. It ran along the wall, forgot what he came in here for, turned around and ran back out.
It’s shocking – a moment that makes me think about my home in a different way. What lurks behind the walls and in the corners? How long had he been here, goofing around while I slept? And are we talking about one furry friend or a furry friend problem?
Years ago, in another house, we had a rat, and enough time has passed that I’m not ashamed to say this. I’d think I saw something around the kitchen, but never noticed anything of the telltale signs – the scruffly sounds or the droppings. And then we moved the big sectional sofa and found the Rat Camp, with everything you’d picture, along with a stash of dog kibble he’d been stealing from the bowls. Two bowls for the two dogs that had to have known that a third pet had joined the family – and yet did nothing about it. Slackers.
The mouse that scampered out of my room this week headed for the laundry area, a place where I’d stacked a few months’ worth of ironing, and no way was I going to dive into that heap. What if the mouse jumped out at me? My daughter offered to come over and do it after work, but don’t mice reproduce every couple of hours? If we waited, there might be mouselets everywhere.
I called my neighbor and he graciously came over to do the mouse hunt, unpacking the basket of clothing, looking around cabinets and into corners. I am proud to say we found not even one mouse dropping anywhere in the house, including the garage. The only sign was a bit of fluffy white stuff on the floor in front of an air-conditioner intake vent. I’m guessing that’s how he came in and maybe how he exited.
“I think the mouse got confused and turned around and left,” said my friend when I called for advice. A call to an exterminator led to questions about droppings and scratching sounds and chewed bags of food.
Glue traps were suggested, but they are inhumane. My daughter and her dog visit often, so I don’t want to use poison. Someone suggested I borrow a cat or two, but I am allergic. And so I set a few of the old-fashioned snap traps, managing to do so while catching my finger only a time or two. I hope the mouse likes peanut butter.
I’m reminded of the old cartoons that showed mice sneaking in and out of arched holes in walls, venturing into the room to snatch a bit of cheese. Meanwhile, over in the kitchen, the wife is in high heels and a dress, teetering on a chair screaming while the husband chases the mouse with a broom. This fear we have is probably innate, like fear of snakes or dressing room mirrors.
I’ve been checking the traps constantly, and staying on the lookout for any fluffy stuff on the floor. I set out one glue trap, near the stove. I checked it first thing this morning – a gazillion tiny ants but no mouse. And so I wait.