Of Mice and Mom

End-of-life options for rodents

Mickey Mouse is adorable. In high school, I wore a Mickey Mouse watch with a brown leather band, and today my watch has Mickey Mouse on it, and when I push on the face, he says cute things after telling the time, like “Good morning, pal,” “Good evening,” or something similar.

Mice can be cute and soft, and I think they appear cuddly, although that doesn’t mean I want to cuddle one.

Clever, cuddly rodents

Some rodents, such as rats, are smart. Thinking back, I remember my younger brother had a pet rat when he was a kid named Jeremy. The little guy had a memorable brown face that seemed to make expressions and pink feet. He’d sit on your shoulder and was very friendly.

Jeremy watched people and loved to go down the front of people’s shirts, turn around, then pop back up and peek out to look around. He loved to stay close and cuddle. Jeremy enjoyed running behind the couch pillows and would stick his head out between pillows every time you called his name when he was playing. My parents bought him from a pet store, and he lived to be at least three.

When a house mouse becomes a hundred thrice mice

Unfortunately, rats and mice are not the same. When my kids and I were living with my parents in their small house in Iowa, at some point, we’d discovered rice-sized pellets around the house, shredded paper, and scurrying noises at night. We quickly realized there was a problem.

If there were prizes for the most devoted animal lover, I’m sure my mom would at least win something at the state level and would be in the running at the national level for some award. Whatever we brought home from school projects or what have you, she would take up the slack and care for said ‘pet.’ One day I’ll write about her devotion carrying over into salamanders, guinea pigs, and even crayfish.

Getting rid of the problem

Her love of animals, great and small, became an issue when the house mice that had decided her house was warmer than the great outdoors one cold fall in Iowa. Her honest and fair attempts at eradication were as follows:

1) My son and dad set live traps. Unfortunately, by the end of each day, the cheese and peanut butter remained in empty traps.

2) Next, she tried ultrasonic plug-in repellents. This product promised to irritate the mice’s brains and auditory nervous systems so they’d stay away. The plug-ins were supposed to only be heard by pests, such as rodents and bugs. Soon my dad was letting my mom down easy by explaining that the plug-ins were probably playing disco music for the mice, and rather than keeping them away, the mice were most likely inviting all their friends and relatives to join them inside.

3) My mom desperately didn’t want to kill the little critters, but when her first two attempts failed, she finally agreed to let my dad and son set deadly traps. Those traps caught seventeen mice in less than a week. Once we realized the magnitude of the problem, we had to take more extraordinary measures.

By that point, things had gotten so bad that we were all concerned. I get up a lot during the night to use the bathroom. I can’t recall how many times I nearly stepped on a fuzzy creature or at least saw one race across the hallway in front of me as I made my way, half-awake and blurry-eyed.

Furthermore, our miniature friends were also becoming bold enough to come out during the daylight hours. My mom hosted Sunday dinners for anyone who wanted to come, as she is a fantastic cook. One evening, while at least a dozen people were in the dining room, she was in the kitchen finishing dinner when she opened the silverware drawer. A tiny gray furball came flying straight up at her before scurrying away.

We knew that once they got so bad that you could see them, there were significantly more you couldn’t see.

4) My mom finally called in the professionals and had them put poison around the house. The problem was eradicated, and my son caulked the space between the carport ceiling and the house, just in case they were slipping in between some minuscule space unseen by us.

I hadn’t thought about our mice friends until I read this adorable three-part story of hope and redemption by Matt Patton, which will bring you a smile after reading about our mice massacre: