I've written about our problem with mice before. At that time, with traps set out, we caught eight of the little critters in about 36 hours.
Well, earlier this week, John and I were blissfully watching the tv in the comfort of our bedroom when I caught a movement out of the corner of my eye. A little (and I do mean little) mouse gingerly made his way around the legs of the dresser and scurried over to the fireplace, where I happened to be sitting. It managed to climb up the bricks and went exploring around my baskets of yarn. I'm not afraid of mice, but I did let John know we had some uninvited company, and moved a basket from harm's way. He, being the loving and caring man he is, came instantly to my defence with something to trap the little creature with. It was much too quick for John, though, and after a couple of minutes of scurrying here and there, doing some of the most amazing gymnastics I'd seen in a long time, the mouse scampered back under the dresser, around the computer desk and disappeared.
A little later, when I went to the bathroom down the hall to prepare for bed, I was accompanied by a little gray creature that stuck his head under the door as I was "otherwise engaged". He got just a little too close to my slippers, so I swatted at him and he beat a hasty retreat. After all of this excitement, John told me that he'd had a close encounter of the personal kind with that same mouse earlier in the day. He'd been at the computer when he felt something on his leg. That little mouse had climbed up his pant leg!
What to do? Well, we left one mousetrap downstairs in the kitchen and the other one was moved up to the bedroom. It hasn't caught anything yet, but John did notice yesterday that the cheese on both traps had been carefully nibbled away, without sprining the traps.
Then, last night, after I got home from work, I decided to get a glass of wine before even thinking about dinner. John had just gotten comfy with a book in the recliner upstairs. Once in the kitchen, I checked the trap and discovered a mouse. Excellent, we'd caught it, finally!
I got a wine glass out of the cupboard, took the wine bottle out of the fridge, turned back toward the sink for some reason and noticed...... another mouse..... on the counter.... behind the knife block. I couldn't believe it! Being very quiet, I picked up a ziploc plastic container that was on the opposite end of the counter, turned it upside down and waited, slowly moving closer to the corner where the mouse was now investigating the two chunks of salmon Rob & Carol had defrosting on the counter for their dinner. The little creature moved around the sealed pouches of fish, trying to find a way to climb on top of the packages. He moved out into the open, saw me, sat up on his haunches and looked me in the eye. When he had determined I was no threat (big mistake), he started to move off, without a care in the world, toward the soap dish. That's when I pounced! And trapped him with the container. I think I was as shocked as the mouse was. To make sure he couldn't get away, I put the bottle of dishwashing soap on top of the container. After watching the mouse exploring his suddenly small world, I went upstairs and told John to get UNcomfy and follow me. On the way down the stairs, I let him know that his trap had caught a mouse. Then, I showed him that I'd caught one, too.
He slid a magazine under the container, scooping up the mouse and the container and we disposed of him in the great outdoors. No, we didn't kill the mouse; we let him go. No doubt, he'll be back in the house very soon if he doesn't meet up with the neighbourhood cats. For the night, though, we were not interrupted by any little creatures checking up on us.
How long will the saga continue?