I am actually starting to feel like Uncle Si on Duck Dynasty. See, I have this mouse issue. I mean this guy is brazen. Every night at about 9:30 the little stinker scoots across the den, behind the bookshelf, does a little shake and bake, heads for the recliner before making his final mad dash for the kitchen and a hard right under the refrigerator. He does this all right in front of the wife and me. Lights on, TV blaring, and the dog who is HUGE, staring right at him.
We have had this problem before, but all I do is go down to Lowes, buy 4 mouse traps for $2, put some peanut butter in them, actually just one trap does the trick, and WHAM!!, squashed Fievel. So, I set out a Fievel smasher behind the bookshelf that he was using for cover on his nightly dash. It completely blocked his path, but I figured what the heck, most people would enjoy a little energy boost of peanut butter during their daily workout. This pain in my existence must be training for an event or something, because instead of stopping for a bite, he took an immediate left and went in front of the book case in plain view, darted behind a CD carrier, and went around the bookcase, headed for the recliner, the kitchen, and the safety underneath the fridge. But that’s not all, the next morning, I get up to see if I snagged him on his return trip, and that little wiener had come back, and ate the peanut butter out of the trap without setting it off!
Now I’m on a mission. I put on the camouflage war paint and set out all the traps. I have one behind the bookcase, one behind the recliner, and even one in front of the bookcase set right behind the CD carrier. I’ve got all the bases covered. No way I miss him this time. That night, same thing, out he comes, quick left to go in front of the bookcase, dodges the trap in front, scoots behind the TV, bolts for the recliner, completely ignores the snack stashed there and, zip, right under the fridge. I am to say the least a little ticked off, but not much. See we have been studying and talking about patience in mens’ group meetings on Wednesdays, and contrary to popular opinion, I am loaded with patience. The wife, not so much.
That night before I went to sleep I thought I heard the trap go off. I was not really sure, and was just going to sleep so I thought I could be hearing things, but anyway it could wait until in the morning. I get up the next morning. Guess what? One of the traps went off, flipped over and it looked like a little tail sticking out from underneath. GOT HIM!! Nope. He had not only set off the trap and got away, but he took the peanut butter with him. What I thought was a tail was simply the locking bar on the trap. I was hacked, but that’s not the clincher. So I make the coffee, and I am sitting down in the “reading room”, you know, reading the paper, when guess who comes strolling in underneath the door? I am not in a real good position to do anything about it, so he comes in, stares at me, raises his right paw, and I kid you not, I think he gave me the finger, and darted underneath the bathroom vanity.
I finished, the paper, and went to check the other traps and sure enough, no bait in them either, and none of the other ones are set off like the first one was. Now he has two traps in the den, and one in the bathroom in the cabinet. I am on a mission. But what I really need is another lesson on patience and irritability, because I am running out.