Bitch on the Blog

August 24, 2015

Gnashers

Filed under: Rodents — bitchontheblog @ 01:11
Tags: , ,

If any of you do mouse woodoo please do let me know. As long as it doesn’t involve blood and dead bodies.

It couldn’t have come at a better time to distract me from business in hand and whilst the Angel is away: A mouse in the house. Since I do count my blessings at least it’s not a rat. It’s a mouse.

From first hand experience and before I googled this hazard I now do know that they are extremely fast, nay furtive, and they need to chew something, anything, mainly at night.

LSF (longest standing friend), a man you can rely on – not least to put your mind at unrest, has painted me a nightmare scenario (on the phone) what with mice breeding like rabbits – only more so. Maybe. But I do know for a fact it’s only ONE mouse. Even mice can’t breed by themselves. On the other hand, knowing my current luck, it was already pregnant before breaking and entering. It’s trapped in my lounge. With no access to food. Oh dear, I can see it know: I’ll die (on the sofa. natural causes – say shock) and in about four weeks’ time the Angel returns home to find his half eaten mother in a state of decay with a big fat mouse holding vigil. The Angel had a great childhood and youth. But it’s never too late to traumatize your children.

By way of comfort and Google I now know that a mouse can’t survive for more than two days without food. It’s nonsense. That mouse is on a wood diet.

If I were of a fragile mind I’d think this is designed to make me crack.

Good night,

U

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8 Comments »

  1. Troubles do not come in single file, they come in battalions.
    True Dat.
    Witnessed over and over again by me.
    And now you.
    XO
    WWW

    Comment by wisewebwoman — August 24, 2015 @ 01:17 | Reply

    • Yup, WWW. Too true. On the whole I’d rather chase a mosquito in the dark.

      U

      Comment by bitchontheblog — August 24, 2015 @ 03:11 | Reply

  2. first thing to remember is … he’s just as afraid of you and you are of him. IF you’re afraid that is!
    i actually love little mice. not in my house though.
    when i lived in my cottage… there were lots of field mice because it used to be a forest.
    their habitat was destroyed. so …
    i bought something called ‘pest offense.’ it plugs into any electrical outlet. it puts out an ultrasound for about 1500 sq. feet.
    it will kill them if they stay… you can’t use it …for instance if your child has a hamster as a pet. dead hamster.
    what the little mouse does is go back outside. do you know where he came in? under the kitchen sink is usually a place.
    what is great about it is… THEY NEVER come back! it keeps them away. they can’t stand the sound. we cannot hear it.
    they also make humane traps you could get. you bait it with cheese or whatever and then when he’s trapped… you or the angel removes him
    back to his natural habitat! that’s what i would choose first… and THEN get a pest offense!

    Comment by tammy j — August 24, 2015 @ 01:57 | Reply

    • No, Tammy, I am not afraid. But increasingly annoyed. There is nothing fair or square in this. I have given that mouse so many chances to go back from where it came from. Unfortunately the stupid animal is too dense to take any of them [chances that is]. Irritates me.

      Like you I do like field mice. They are cute and they know where home is. In a field. Not someone’s house. As it happened – and for light relief – the Angel was at an open air music festival somewhere in Germany a few weeks ago. Oh did his friends laugh when he had fixed his tent on a field – just above a colony of cuties. He swore he could feel them burrowing underneath the bottom of his tent. Such are his charms they followed him around. A bit like the Pied Piper of Hamlin.

      And what do you know and that was when he didn’t think it that funny more – no sooner had he arrived back home (briefly) he sighted a mouse (in our bathroom). It was taking the sublime to the ridiculous. Anyway, now that the Angel is abroad once more, it’s between me and the mouse.

      Thing is when I lived with my grandparents they habitually had mouse traps in the kitchen. Frightful guillotines. But and this is a big BUT I was never allowed into the kitchen in the morning till they had checked the traps. Thus I have not been desensitized to squashed and other dead mice. Can’t stand the idea.

      Thanks for the tip re sound devices. The jury on whether they work seems to be out. I wish I had a cat (again). But it’s not on in an inner city flat.

      Psst … there it goes again… gnaw gnaw gnaw …

      U

      Comment by bitchontheblog — August 24, 2015 @ 03:08 | Reply

  3. I’d rather have a mouse than swallow a wasp, but I don’t like mice in the apartment either. We’ve only had one in our 40+ years here. Our adjoining neighbor had a cat which presumably brought it inside to play with.

    It came in through a hole for the plumbing under the sink. I’m afraid we caught it in a sticky trap baited with peanut butter. Not nice for the mouse, but we didn’t have to touch it and risk hantavirus, a real danger in the American Southwest.

    If I had known about the ultrasonic device I might have tried it. Thanks for the tip, tammy.

    Good luck, Ursula!

    Comment by cheerfulmonk — August 24, 2015 @ 05:40 | Reply

    • It really is the pits. Had another marvellously restless night, that constant gnawing waking me throughout. And it is terribly difficult to locate exactly where it’s coming from. Added to which, no sooner do you make the slightest noise when moving, it goes all quiet.

      There is nothing for it: I have to trap that mouse. Not least because, as you say, it’s a health hazard. I keep hoping it’ll just die either of starvation, exhaustion or sheer boredom. But it doesn’t. And if it did it’d probably, out of spite, die somewhere I can’t get to it and stink the place out during decomposing.

      Last time I dealt with a mouse was when I looked after the mother of a bishop no less. She asked me to help sort out her considerable mansion and generally keep her company. The place was a tip. A lovely tip with a grand view across water to the Isle of Wight but a tip nevertheless. Lovely woman (in her early eighties at the time) but unable to let go of anything. The only thing she let me get rid of was a dead mouse I found in her kitchen. Also, since we’ve been talking quite a bit about ‘money’ and ‘cashflow’ in recent posts, she was a prime example of genteel poverty. The place was worth probably millions, its contents were worth quite a bit, yet when she showed me her bank statements I nearly fainted at how much in the red she was. Also, Jean, another lesson I learnt: Just because someone is a bishop doesn’t make him holy. Dear dog in heaven. I once phoned that bishop because I was dead worried about his mother and she clearly was almost, I don’t know, frightened to talk to him herself. You know what? That bishop – and remember we are talking about his mother – told me, with the iciest tone of voice I have ever come across, to mind my own business. Well, it was my business, wasn’t it? Terrible, truly terrible.

      Anyway …

      U

      Comment by bitchontheblog — August 24, 2015 @ 12:06 | Reply

  4. Heard this yesterday….. Chinese (?) proverb… The second mouse gets the cheese.

    Comment by magpie11 — August 24, 2015 @ 14:06 | Reply

  5. You’ll just have to set a trap for it. Nasty, I know, but yes, it’s a health hazard, and if it won’t disappear of its own accord you need to finish it off.

    Comment by nick — August 25, 2015 @ 20:48 | Reply


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