Around the end of December, I noticed little brown droppings. Horrified by my new discovery, I vacuumed every nook and cranny of the apartment.
EVERY NOOK AND CRANNY - I moved bookshelves, our 5 person sofa which weighs 300 pounds, moved our shoe rack, curtains and morphed into a vacuuming fiend. I would find every piece of tiny mouse poop.
Knowing that mice are nocturnal, I went on with life as usual. Until I noticed a new trend emerging from Lila's usual habits. She would go to a dark closet, sit down, and stare at the ground. If a dark closet was unavailable, I found her sitting behind the sofa and staring at the ground.
I started to worry. Was Lila depressed? Bored? I enrolled her in Doggy Daycare, hoping her playtime there would cause her bizarre habits to subside. Yet, she still spent evenings in the closet. I shared my concern with Joey, who assured me Lila didn't show the usual signs of depression. As we talked, Lila sat, alone, in the closet, focused on the carpet. I called her name. She didn't even flinch. Joey called her name. No response.
Finally, I got up and walked over to the closet. I turned on the light to reveal that Lila wasn't depressed; no, Lila was staring down a hole in the corner our of closet floor. A hole that most likely leads to a tiny underground Ratatouille-sized family of mice.
My neighbors have informed me that they too battle the mice. One neighbor in particular is Eileen. If you've ever seen Ratatouille, the old woman Mabel in the movie is my neighbor, Eileen. Eileen is 82 years old and always has her hair in curlers. In addition, Eileen's favorite outfit consists of the following: a pink and white nightgown complimented by heavy industrial boots. According to Eileen, she frequently falls asleep in her recliner with the tv on in the background, then wakes up at bizarre hours, like 2am. I love Eileen.
I am not sure if Eileen owns any weaponry, but it wouldn't be a big surprise if this scene played out in our complex. Although, rather than target the ceiling, Eileen would target the floor.
Last weekend, Eileen had a gentleman caller. However, being elderly and easily confused, the gentleman caller first came to my apartment in search of Eileen. He knocked on my door and stood in bewilderment as I greeted him.
"Did you just move in?" he asked.
"I moved here in November." I replied.
"What happened to the old lady that lived her?" he asked loudly, which indicated he may be hard of hearing.
"I don't know."
"Ok," he responded sadly. He turned away and made his way up the stairs.
I closed the door and it dawned on me.
"Wait!" I swung the door open, hoping to catch the man. Luckily, his age slowed him down and he was only 20 feet away from my door. "You're in the wrong apartment building! She lives in the next building. She's still there!" I continued, excited to be able to help.
"Really?" he said, eyes lighting up.
"Yes."
"Thank you!"
ADORABLE.
ANYWAY, after I discovered the mouse tunnel in our closet, I stuffed the hole with an old t-shirt. Then I put a box on top of the t-shirt. This is obviously not a long term solution, but so far, it's working. I then carried Lila out of the closet. That's right CARRIED. I had to physically pick her up and carry her out of the closet. She is so infatuated with our critters that any time she hears a sound coming from the kitchen or closet, she bolts from the sofa, her usual spot, runs to where she thinks the sound came from and STARES, waiting.
The pathetic part of this is that usually she focuses so hard on the spot where she believes the mice will appear that she completely misses them running behind her.
The most mice we've seen at any one time is three. The first time we saw a mouse, I decided he needed a name. Normally, I choose the name, but this time, I asked Joey for his input.
"What should we name the mouse?" I asked Joey
"Hector," Joey replied without batting an eyelash.
I am so PROUD! Normally, whenever I try to give a name to a random animal, Joey acts perplexed. It used to be that when I told him that I named a random critter, he would respond, "Why would you name it?"
It has taken nine years of being together for Joey to realize when it comes to me, it's usually easier to go with the flow. Rather than question my desire to name every animal that crosses our path, he MIGHT AS WELL give his input on a name.
So Hector it became. Whenever we saw a mouse in the house, (nice rhyme) we would announce Hector's visit. We saw Hector by himself three times. I am very well aware that it could have been a different mouse each time, but I choose to believe it was Hector. LET ME BELIEVE!
This was fine and dandy until last week. Last Wednesday night, I walked into the kitchen and turned on the light. The room illuminated to reveal Hector frozen still, STARING AT ME.
His stiffened stature caused me to freeze as well. This means at 9:00 pm on a Wednesday night, I was caught in a STARING CONTEST WITH A MOUSE. I didn't dare call out for Joey and startle Hector. I wanted to catch and free Hector and his family in a wild meadow filled with flowers, sunshine, and happiness.
"How can I catch him?" I thought to myself. "I know, I LIGHTLY BOP HIM WITH A BROOM. I won't hit him hard enough to do damage, just enough to stun him."
FLAWLESS PLAN - aka dumb plan.
All I needed was to reach for the broom, let me move my arm ever so slightly to the left to grab the broom and I'll -
The moment I tensed my arm, Hector took off into a newly carved hole under our cabinets.
"Oh well," I said out loud.
I took a step further into the kitchen and was cut off by another mouse who ZOOMED past me into the hole.
Ok, I am not one of those girls who screams when she gets scared. I don't scream and pretend to be scared merely to gain attention. Like when you are at the ocean, standing in the sand and a crashing wave makes its way towards you, DON'T SCREAM. That is stupid."OMG THE WAVES ARE COMING! AHHH" Those girls drive me crazy. Either a) let the water touch your toes, you will survive or b) MOVE OUT OF THE WAY.
When I see girls/women doing that, I stare at them with frustration. They are giving women a bad name. We are NOT a weak gender that requires rescuing. We can manage on our own. Sure, we LIKE when someone comes to help us, who doesn't? Yet, women need to stop perpetuating the stereotype that we can't handle life without a strong, rugged man saving the day. I-N-D-E-P-E-N-D-E-N-T, do you know what that means? U
Ok sorry, side tracked. I have MANY more thoughts about that and also my issue with society perpetuating what men and women should look like and act like. If you're a kind and respectful person who is trying to be a good human being, you're awesome in my book.
ANYWAY, even though I am not one to shriek, the second mouse startled me so much that I let out a quick shriek. I immediately covered my mouth, surprised that sound managed to escape. Joey called out from the bedroom. I explained that alongside Hector, we now had Gladys. That's right, I named her Gladys.
So that is my life's current situation. I am trying to handle living with mice - as in, I want to catch these mice and free them, but I think we may need to call an exterminator.
No comments:
Post a Comment