For the last few months of this winter, I've suspected that I've had a little mouse living in my garage. When I cleaned the guinea pigs' cages, I'd put the bags of dirty shavings out in the garage. A couple of times I'd seen some shavings on the garage floor, but I figured I had mistakenly used a bag with a little hole in it for the job. I'm usually very careful about using non holey bags for poop duty, so after a while I thought that the little "spilled" piles of shavings were odd. And truth be told it pissed me off when I had to sweep them off of the garage floor too. When I looked closer I saw that the bags had little bite marks deliberately ripping holes in them. Since this winter was stupid cold, and my garage isn't heated, I had no interest in spending more time out there than was absolutely necessary to investigate, and I also didn't want little mousie to be homeless in that weather either.
On the first nice day that I had some extra time, I ventured out into the garage. I swept up the floor and rearranged things in a much neater way. While doing so, I looked in things, I looked behind things, I looked everywhere a mousie could be. I found nothing, not even the evidence of a nest. Huh, maybe he moved out.
Two days later, everyone else was asleep and I was sitting at the computer answering a few emails before I went up to bed as well. Connecting my living room to my kitchen is a large opening in the wall with a window sill on it. On the kitchen side there is a countertop with stools to sit at and eat. On the living room side there is nothing in particular, just that you can see into the kitchen and place things on the sill. As I was sitting at the computer that night I heard the dishes rattle in the kitchen. WTF....did I just hear that? I sat still and listened, just in case it was the guineas clinking their bowls together, but I knew it had actually come from the non guinea direction. I went out to the kitchen to see if the dishes in the sink had "settled" but they hadn't. I went to computer and sat back down. I heard it again. *Clink clink clink* Fuck.
I went to investigate...very quietly investigate. I opened cupboard doors. I was down on my hands and knees looking in small spots that a mouse could go. Nothing. I sat back down. *clink clink clink* Motherf-er. I went to bed.
As I discussed the suspected mouse events with my children the next day, I was given varying theories:
Me: I heard the dishes in the kitchen clinking last night while I was on the computer but I don't know what it was. I suspect we have a mouse.
Ty: I told you, this place is haunted. You never listen to me.
Me: Our condo isn't haunted. No one has ever died in this condo. No one has died in the condo next to us either so it's not like a ghost could even mistakenly go through the wall into the wrong condo. If anyone's condo could possibly be haunted it would be Gramma's because the lady next to her died. Her ghost could come through the wall, but she's not there either so no one's condo is haunted.
Trent: Did a mouse ever die in our house?
Me: I don't know Trent.
Trent: 'Cause it could be a ghost mouse.
Me: *sigh*
A little background about me and the mice friends:
A couple of summers ago, my kids and I were generously given the use of a cottage for a week, free of charge. A friend of mine was incredulous when I told him that on the second last night there I heard a mouse in the kitchen at 2am and I almost packed everything up and came home. I'd rather have a bear in the house. At least you can see a bear. With a mouse, you might be in bed as it runs over your face. They're crafty little fuckers.
Back to my house mouse.
The next day I went to the hardware store to get a mouse trap or two. I sought out the cute guy with the accent to help me. I asked him specifically because, in an unpleasant situation it's always nicer to be talked to soothingly by someone with an accent. Plus, looking at him really just made my entire day feel better. He showed me the plethora of mouse traps and poison. I explained that although I wanted little mousie out of the garage, I did not want to extinguish his wee life.
No problem, here are all the gizmos that live trap them.
Perfect.
I took three of them from Mr. Australian Accent and took them back home. I baited them with peanut butter, put one in the garage and two in the house, and I waited. And I waited and I waited. It's been at least two weeks now and I'm still waiting.
I guess it was a ghost mouse after all.
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