I bet some of you are wondering when this would come up. I have 100s of rodent stories but I think I will end it here. But first I want to give you an update on our mouse war:
As of now–it is over. Let me tell you what happened. For the last week W has been scattering modern, gentler–less finger snapping, mouse traps with little bits of dog treats or cheese in them. I know cartoons really like the cheese stereotype but it doesn’t work. At least, it doesn’t work as well as peanut butter. For one, mice LOVE peanut butter. For two, it sticks to the trap so the mouse really has to get in there to get it all whereas sometimes they can just pick the cheese right off the trap. OH! before I go on–NEVER use mouse poison. NEVER!!! You might think I say this because little kids or pets could get into it and die–there’s that but ALSO it makes mice super thirsty so they go to water. Water usually travels in pipes–inaccessible pipes–the mice head right for these and die. We had this happen. The mouse died right behind the wall of a closet and there was NOTHING we could do. It ruined a whole closet of winter jackets and made the whole house smell like death for a couple months.
Anyway–W has been using modern traps too. I stick with the oldschool. They work.
Friday night we went for dinner and drinks at our favorite oyster bar Fathom. When we got home W flipped on the light in the kitchen and screamed RAT! Rat? I said. YES he said–it went behind the stove!!! I pulled out the stove and it scurried into the mouse hole in the wall.
What to do what to do. We could board up the wall. But no–instead I peanut buttered 2 old-school traps, put them behind the stove and left it at that–then W added a bunch more of his dog treat/modern trap combos. There was no way the mouse had a chance. I fell asleep on the couch with Rocky while watching Medium and flew upright when the loud snap went off. The poor mouse totally succumbed to my peanutbutter. Still, I didn’t know how to remove it without setting off the other traps. So I left it–it was W’s warzone so he had to deal with it in the morning.
SO COLLEGE DISASTERS! This is going to be one long post and my posts have been super long lately so thats saying something. In college I dated this guy named A. A was pretty awesome–still is and married to an equally awesome wife and they have an awesome kid and dog and I believe another awesome kid on the way. However, this was a long time ago and A and I were still dating.
A is one of those guys who is pretty straight-laced on the outside but very funny and oddinagoodway once you get to know him. I say straight-laced because a friend and I had to secretly throw away his loafers with tassels. Yes he had them. I say cool and odd because the same friend and he got into a battle of pranks that new no end–elaborate bucket over the doorway traps. and A’s initials where AS and he (nerd) labeled all his cds thus–the friend and I spent and afternoon adding another S to every single cd: ASS. Good times. So he was/is creative and motivated and lived in a college house with this great bunch of college people and they decided to throw a college party.
A, thinking outside the box, came up with a great idea to race mice as a drinking game. He spent a whole afternoon making and wall-mounting a huge plexiglass 3-level race track and I agreed to adopt the mice after and help on the condition that the mice were not harmed, not stressed, not colored or dyed to distinguish them apart. I was hesitant but it was a mouse-racing drinking game, that is pretty awesome.
A friend and I tromped over to petco and I bought a cage and picked out 4 male mice: a big black one, a gray one, a white one, and I think a speckled one. These were snake-food mice so they weren’t the healthiest and over night the white one died. A took it back the next day and came home with 2 mice so there were 5 total.
That night, the night of the party, I had to wait tables so I didn’t get home until the party was in full swing. My brow wrinkled. The mice were pretty stressed, and I tend to be a wet blanket at times, so I think I allowed one or two more races before I put them in their cage in a dark room.
I was closing the door when I noticed the big black male was acting weird. It was scratching around making a huge pile of shavings.
Shit. I don’t think that big black male mouse is a big black male mouse.
Sure enough, right after I lugged them to my apartment the big black nolongermale mouse had about 5 babies. Right away it killed 4 of them and kept kicking the 5th out of the nest. The little pink thing would just lay there, barely breathing, no eyes, slightly wiggling its little arms and make odd little noises.
I can’t watch shit like that. It breaks my heart. I started crying and called the pet store that I sometimes volunteered at. I think they were secretly laughing at me because I wanted to save the baby pinky mouse of a feeder mouse–neither should have lived as long as they did. But, encouraging, they said mice are most closely related to dogs so I could come by and pick up some puppy milk and try and feed the little sucker.
So that’s what I did. For 2 days I fed this stupid mouse tinsy (smaller than drops) bits of puppy milk off the head of a pin. On the second day, I fed it a bit to much. It died.
I cried. Oh man I cried. So far this mouse experiment had been pretty harrowing. Plus, my relationship with A was ending so pretty much anything made me cry.
I still had 5 mice left. But then I didn’t. They caught mouse influenza and it wiped them out one by one except the little gray one. This little gray one survived and would sneeze every minute or so for the rest of his life. It was frikin adorable to hear the little mouse sneeze from around our apartment.
I had him past the hard talks and crying and finally end of As and my relationship. Then one day that summer, they both had disappeared. A was expected (though still at the time startling) but I came home from work one day and the little gray mouse was just gone. I had left a window open so I suspect a cat but there was no trace. No battle signs. Just no more sneezing.
That is the last rodent story I am sharing here. There are many more–like how when a hamster died we would put it in the freezer till we had time to bury it. Or when another died my friend and I buried it in the back yard in its roller ball and then had to dig it up because my mom said it was not environmentally friendly. Allinall they all add up to good stories and life lessons but I think most important it has left me with this: though I want my someday-kids to have pet experiences, they are never, NEVER, getting a fucking rodent!