Of Mice and Men

We are currently suffering from one of the (less than lovely) afflictions that plague 'Big City' residents. 

We have mice.

My daughter watches Tom and Jerry, and I've got to say I'd take cute little cartoon Jerry any day.  Let me explain something about myself .... I don't do rodents, bugs, farms, wild animals or the outdoors in general.  I am struggling with this new development.

We had mice once before, when we lived in London, Ontario.  These aren't any ordinary mice, though ... these are NYC mice.  They're at the top of the 'Mouse Foodchain', and they are smart, fast, and they may or may not be able to levitate.

We caught one last night, and (naively) I believed this was the end of the mouse issue.  We'd spent a week trying to catch this little sucker - setting peanut butter covered traps at night to wake up to an empty, peanut butter-less trap.  (Hence, my levitation theory.)

It was less than an hour ago that I saw the next little varmint darting around a cupboard and disappearing.   Once I got back down off my stool, I called the hubby to let him know, and then I left the kitchen.  Cleaning will have to wait. 

My daughter knows that we've been looking for a mouse, but because of her love for Micky and Jerry, I don't have the heart to tell her that Mommy is playing for keeps.  (And when I say Mommy, I mean strictly in an advisory capacity ... The field work on this project belongs to my husband.) 

It's my fondest hope that at the very least, we took out the ring-leader - the brains of the operation - and now all that is left is for us to set up some cleverly placed spring traps and sticky paper, and watch the rest follow suit.

Unfortunately I have a sneaking suspicion that these mice haven't survived NYC exterminators for nothing.  They're like the Elite Mouse Commando Force.  The Black Helicopters of the mousing world. 

Wish us luck .....