Monday, February 12, 2007

Gersh Dang Mouse in the Gersh Dang House.


Last year we were fortunate enough not to host the "Rodentia Invasionia". Unfortunately, it seems this is an "every two year" event. Like every good host, we obviously have to roll out the red carpet!

As I opened the silver ware drawer Saturday morning, I noticed little black crumby things scattered all throughout the utensils my family sticks IN THEIR MOUTHS. Hooray! Not only is the little vermin an unwelcome house guest, but he does not even have the decency to poop in the JUNK DRAWER. Asshole.

Preferring salt over mouse dookie as a seasoning to my eggs, I promptly removed all utensils and stuck them in the dish washing machine. I then proceeded to pour gasoline into the drawer and light it on fire, hoping to gas the little fucker out. Didn't work.

I am not terrified of mice. I grew up on a farm and mice are really the least of your worries when a fifty pound groundhog is chasing you and trying to rip your leg off. Our house was not just a people house, but a youth hostile for rebellious mice, who wanted more out of life, than following the traditional values of the field. I had to vacuum out the couch one day when I was eight and found three little guys flattened underneath the cushions, just like little rodent pan-cakes.

What I love the best when vermin enter your lives is the advice you receive from people you love, and once thought had any common sense.

First Question:

"Don't you have three cats? How can you have mice with three cats?"

I do have three cats. Two that are indoor/outdoor, one that is strictly outdoor. The two that stay inside are useless. Why? They see a mouse and they get excited and look at each other like "By golly, jidya see dat! Wut is dat!" They then proceed to grab a bowl of catnip and take station at the closest vantage point, to watch this amazing thing run across the floor! They are like French people watching Jerry Lewis movies; the act is so unnatural, totally unfunny, completely not fascinating, and just deeply disturbing.

This brings us to the first suggestion:

"Well, you should get one of those cruelty free traps."

This is so dumb, on so many levels.

First off, what is this person expecting me to do? Trap the stupid mouse, then drive it to the country, to release it while screaming, "BE FREE FAIR MOUSE, BE FREE!" Then witness a red tail hawk come out of nowhere, and snatch the fucker up for dinner?

My house is not a holy place that mice just "pop" into existence, I don't care how filthy some of you think I may be. The thing had to come from somewhere (outside) and since I am not wasting a $2.25 gallon of gas on a mouse, I only have one more option of where to release it (outside), and I have not had a friend with a snake since my Metallica phase in high school.

But, what is dumbfounding to me, is that the same person who wondered why I own defective cats, is the person who suggested a cruelty-free trap. Placing a trap that will snap the mouse's neck quickly, is crueler than letting a cat get to it? Um, hello?

Let me introduce you to Bernie, the third kitty, who lives outside. Bernie lived in the house during the "Rodentia Invasionia" of 2005. Unfortunately for us, he is akin to peeing on just about EVERYTHING in the house, if permitted inside, and unfortunately for Bernie, he pees straight cat urine and not Lysol. So during this stint of mouse residency, Bernie is not a viable solution.

Death to a mouse by way of feline intervention is NOT humane, and quite a gory process. First, the feline (one that is not hopped up on cat nip and Pounce treats) sniffs out the mouse. Secondly, the feline becomes one with its environment, meaning, if the stake out location is on the floor, the feline will flatten itself to become "one" with the floor. Time is no matter to the feline, for it will wait until mouse boldly attempts to change positions, then *SNAP*, the mouse is now a cat toy.

I use "toy" for a reason. Cats are amazing hunters by instinct, they are carnivores and in the wild, they need to hunt to eat. House cats (once again, those that are not hopped up on cat nip and Pounce treats) do not need to hunt to eat, yet sill, instinctively possess the ability to be a great hunter. Being that the house kitty does not hunt to eat, it hunts for sport. A torturous, gruesome, horrible sport. Kind of like golf, but not as boring.

The kitty uses the mouse as its personal entertainment for however long the mouse can cling on to dear life. They carry the mouse around in their mouth, like it was their wittle baby. They play solitary table hockey with the mouse, slamming it back and forth between their paws. They then play the "Hippy Hippy Shakes" game with the mouse, clenched in kitty's jowls, shaking it back and forth until the wittle mouse gets all dizzy! Fun for cat and mouse.....*ahem*

Well, this is what happened to the last mouse that dared enter the lair of "Bernie the Brain Eater". We found the body of the decapitated mouse on the rug in the kitchen and the head being used as a "CHASE IT!" ball throughout the house.

Yep, a regular trap is definitely crueler than letting a cat get to it.......

So, I have decided to go about getting the mouse my own way. I got a six pack, a lawn chair and a BB gun. That son of a bitch will never know what hit him.


  1. I read this in a gay sex club...makes me miss home.

  2. Yikes! Good luck with the mice. My husband wanted to put peanut butter instead of cheese on a trap one time and that damn mouse got it all over our freakin house! Still didn't catch it.