The Return of Wee Mousie

It is with heavy heart that I report that my four-legged roommate who does not pay rent hath returned. Like my prodigal son who's been off looting and pillaging for a year, he has returned, tail not-quite-between-his-legs, to scurry and to terrify, no doubt expecting a block party in his honor. I'm sorry, Wee Mousie, but the coffres of adoration have run dry. I don't have time for your wee charade.

wee mousie

I would like to be the person who couldn’t hurt a fly. I would like to never harm a living thing. I don’t think any living thing should suffer, I don’t think hunting for sport is a good idea or even really acceptable. But if a bug or rodent enters my living space, watch out—I’m a killer. In the same way that I unapologetically use Sweet ‘N’ Low even though I know it’s bad for me and Splenda is at least made from real sugar (it’s sweeter than sugar, it dissolves in iced coffee, I like it—okay, maybe I apologize a little)[Note to Self: Come up with new vice for which I am unapologetic. Other Note to Self: Other uses for Splenda], I am a ruthless exterminator. Why? Because I’m scared. Things crawling on me or near me, crapping in the cereal, infesting the cupboard—this terrifies me so deeply that I’ll go to any lengths necessary to rid my life of these invaders. If there is a spider in my apartment, I do not carefully slip a piece of shirt cardboard under its creepy crawly legs and gently release it into the wild. I squash it. I don’t feel bad afterwards—I feel relieved.

I'm sorry Wee Mousie. This is war. You can't come sauntering back into the apartment after a year of gallivanting about town and expect a ticker tape parade.

How to Catch a Mouse in the House

I’m more afraid of bugs than I am of mice. When my first mouse arrived (oh, those were heady days), I named mine Wee Mousie and pretended I had a little terrifying pet for a week or two, before his habit of darting across the living room at the least opportune moments led me to more drastic measures.

OK, I know you hate me right now, and I hate me a little bit too, but a room-size Have-a-Heart cage trap rigged with a hunk of cheese does not fool even the dumbest mouse. Glue traps are the least humane way to trap them—they don’t kill them immediately, just stop the critter dead in its tracks and holds him captive—screaming all the while—for hours until he finally succumbs. Glue traps also catch other bugs, should you have them, which makes for a very disgusting slab of cardboard. The only way to kill a mouse effectively every time is to use the old standard spring and balsa trap. It’s fast, it kills them instantly and they really work. Lay the trap against the wall (mice truly are almost blind, so they run along the baseboards in order to find their way) near where you’ve seen the mouse. They tend to get active around dusk and and at night, so best to rig up the traps then.

To prevent more mice from entering, fill any holes (even the tiniest crack) with steel wool. Keep in mind that this may result in your trapping Wee Mousie inside your apartment, but it should keep his brethren from entering.

Now stop hating me. I am really a peaceful person. I just want you to live free of pests and pestilence.

NB: If your problem is bugs and not meese, check out my book, where uninvited guests of every stripe are addressed.