Of Mice and Men

A few days ago, I found mouse droppings all over our kitchen counter. I had made the fatal mistake of leaving some dirty dishes on the counter overnight because I was just so effing tired that I didn't feel like dealing with them (know what I mean?). I have done that before without any problem, but not this time. Some little rodent nimbly made it's way across the shiny granite, stopping to paw at some peanut butter stuck to a plate and leave his "calling cards" all over the place. Grossed out and irritated, I spent the better part of 2 hours (you heard me) sanitizing the kitchen and thoroughly washing everything that was on the counter. I even flushed out the coffee pot in case the furry little bastard felt the need for a caffeine fix.

After the kitchen was sparkling, I dug up some mouse traps that had moved with us six years ago. I had almost thrown them out in a fit of cockiness ("We'll never have a mouse problemhere."), but something buried deep in my subconscious mind made me keep them. Luckily. I am an animal lover, but I have my limitations. I don't mind mice if they are in a field or even scampering around my garage. I just don't want them in my house, and certainly not in my kitchen. Since baiting and killing animals is not really my thing, I asked my husband to take care it. I told him that I thought the mouse was getting in through a side door that leads from the outside directly into out kitchen. He put a small cracker topped with peanut butter (seeing as the mouse seemed to like peanut butter before) on the trap and left it sitting by the door, waiting for our unsuspecting and unwanted visitor to nibble. That was four days ago and the peanut butter cracker is still there.

I briefly thought to myself, "Maybe it was a rogue mouse working alone and just needed to cross through our kitchen on his way to bigger and better things." I mentioned this possibility to my neighbor who promptly laughed and shook his head. Guess not. But, we went two days without seeing any sign of a mouse. So, I began to hope. But, alas, yesterday I found a single turd balancing atop of my gorgeous cantaloupe that was ripening in my fruit basket. After whispering some expletives so my toddler wouldn't hear me, I wiped up the aforementioned poop and decided it was time to break out a second trap, this one to be strategically located directly on the counter near where the mouse seemed to like to hang out. I placed the trap on a paper towel and asked my husband to bait it for me again. I went to bed, hoping to be done with this mouse thing soon.

I woke up and checked the traps. Nothing. No sign of a mouse at all. I shrugged and told myself to be patient. As I was making my coffee, however, I took a closer look at the counter-top trap and laughed out loud. My brilliant husband had baited it with peanut butter AND chocolate! Clearly he assumed the mouse was a PMS-ing female. I was so amused by this that I almost forgot how annoyed I was that we even have a mouse situation in the first place. Almost.

So now we're on day 5 of mouse alert and nothing. I am beginning to wonder if the peanut butter combinations are not suiting the palate of our furry friend. Maybe it's time to try good old fashioned cheese.