My daughters both told me that I should blog about our mouse problem. I thought it was too gross. But as I sit here at the computer, three mice scurried out from different corners of the room and each chose a different exit. The only thing I can to do is write about it.
Last summer we had snakes under the house and absolutely no mice. I never thought I would say this, but I'm praying the snakes will return. The snakes were scarier than the mice but they did not leave poop all over the house and I only came in direct contact with two of them the whole summer.
We first started noticing evidence of a mouse in the house two or three weeks ago. My husband set a trap and caught a mouse. Where there's one, there's probably another so he set the trap again and caught another mouse. We started seeing mice, multiple mice, in the bathroom, the living room, the computer room, the laundry room, the kitchen. Daryl started setting five traps at a time and catching mice in all of them. He's even caught two in one trap.
Then one evening he told me to go outside and look in the plastic tub. There were 13 mice covered in gasoline. He'd found them living in the dog food bag. Gross doesn't even describe it. He has continued to set the five traps and they are sometimes full, sometimes only one or two mice, one morning they were empty. I thought we were getting to the end of it, but then Daryl left for two days of continuing education meetings in Oklahoma City.
Before he left I asked him if he was going to set the traps. He said no and I said thank you. What am I going to do with dead mice in the traps? I'm not a hunter or a killer but I don't mind my husband killing things for me. As a matter-of-fact, I appreciate it.
So here I sit, watching a baby mouse. It looks like he's washing his hands. I can hardly wait for Daryl to get home and set more traps.