Being terrorised by Mickey Mouse
Now, although not exactly townies, Hubby and I have never had much experience in the mouse department and it’s proving, to be honest, to be a bit of an issue. We’ve been hearing nocturnal noises (and the dog squeaking like a big girl) for a few nights now and, having discovered several packets of cereal had been broken into, with lots of little poos left all around them (ugh), the diagnosis was confirmed. We’ve got meeces. Now don’t get me wrong – we live in the middle of a bloody great splodge of farmland and living in the country these things are only to be expected, but bloody hell they’re just SO fast. One night, Hubby went out to the kitchen for a beer only to discover one of them on the work surface. He called to me and we tried to trap it with ‘Rachel’s Favourite Food’ and ‘Feast’ by Nigella Lawson – both worthy tomes with which to catch mice, but when we had it cornered, it hurled itself off the work surface onto the floor, sending both of us shrieking with laughter (and, yes, okay, a bit of fear) back into the lounge where we shut the door firmly. The next day #1 politely enquired what all the screaming was about and was, in that typical, withering way that eleven year olds have, disgusted that we could possibly have been scared by a small furry animal. Even after Hubby had explained that they have HUGE claws and GIANT teeth, his smirk didn’t fade, leaving us somewhat embarrassed and even more determined to catch the monster.
The next day, having made a trip to the hardware store and been relieved of a disgusting amount of Euro, we plugged in our new ‘sonic pest repeller’. Apparently this little plug-in miracle creates some kind of sonic waves that mess with their ears and make your house unbearable to live in for the little critters. Well, we were impressed. Yep, right until we walked in to the kitchen to find a small furry intruder happily sitting in the fruit bowl nibbling a grape within..ooh..about ten inches of the sonic repeller. And no, he seemed pretty happy with his grape and not at all repelled by our sonic waves. In fact, he seemed altogether chirpy. Back to the drawing board then. This morning we arrived back from the UK to find our biscuit cupboard decimated (each packet had been nibbled neatly in the middle and about four biscuits gnawed in little semi circles. Later I heard a noise and went to investigate and opened the door of one of the cupboards only to find TWO mickeys entertaining themselves with a packet of crackers. Now this was war. I mean, what is it with us? First we’re terrorised by hundreds of rabbits called Paddy and now these miniature furry terrorists. I ask you.
Another trip to the hardware store later and I was equipped with a refund for my sonic pest yoke and four new mousetraps. I’ll be honest, I have mixed emotions about mousetraps, but the lady in the store talked me out of poison (they crawl off and die in your cavity walls apparently), and I’m a keen cook and mouse poo all over the work surfaces just doesn’t sit well with me so if you’re squeamish, look away now. Hubby arrived home from work and I was just telling him how much trouble (and how many fingernails) it had taken to set the bloody things when there was an ominous noise in the cupboard. Hubby ran away like a big girl leaving me to don my rubber gloves and investigate. Sure enough poor Mickey was in the trap, but rather than the bloodbath I was expecting, he was caught by the tail and seemed to be dead. I picked up the trap and held it up for Hubby to see when suddenly Mickey came to life again and plopped onto the floor and…wait for it…in one lightening fast movement was promptly slurped up into B’s mouth. Completely astonished about the amount of fuss we made, B reluctantly spat the poor thing out and it was caught in a tumbler for Hubby to take out and throw over the hedge. I actually think it might have been kinder to be killed by the trap rather being caught by the tail by a giant metal snapping thing, scooped into the jaws of a huge monster, regurgitated and then unceremoniously luzzed a fair distance from a glass tumbler over a hedge. Poor Mickey. What a story he’ll have for his grandchildren though.
No Responses to “Being terrorised by Mickey Mouse”
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A non e-mouse says:
A smidgen late, but, in a word – moggy -
englishmuminireland says:
Hmmm…you’re right. Unfortunately we’re a greyhound household and they tend to see moggies as a little snackette, so best not!
