I Hate Mieces to Pieces
Who was the Saturday morning cartoon character who coined mouse hate talk? I may not remember, but I agree whole-heartedly. I hate mieces to pieces, too. The little varmints haven’t been my favorite animal for a long, long time, not since the charm of Stuart Little and The Mouse and the Motorcycle during the infamous bedroom closet mouse invasion of 1991.
But this afternoon when Hiram found a mouse nest on the the heating element in the air vent underneath the windshield wipers, my dislike turned to loathing. The discovery and removal of the nest, along with the extraction of two dead babies stuck to the cabin air filter, cleared up the mystery of Monday’s hitch hiking mouse. It wasn’t a hitch hiker at all, it and its family were squatters.
Well, I have never fancied myself as a landlord and don’t intend to start now. The car dealership had no idea of how to keep Mickey and Minnie from rebuilding Shantytown and a quick search of the internet turned up these suspicious and/or unsatisfactory solutions:
- Mothballs
- Live traps
- Mouse traps
- Dryer sheets
- Peppermint oil on cotton balls
- Hot pepper
- Cats
Supposedly, the mice don’t like the scent of the stinky things on the list, but neither do I. In fact, I’m allergic to several of them. Even though we’ve used so many traps we should have stock in the company, the mice invasion hasn’t ended. And while we don’t own a cat, plenty of ferrel ones hang around the place, and they haven’t kept the mice at bay either.
So I’m thinking Hiram’s gonna have a whole lot of fun transforming the Corolla into a cat mobile. While he’s doing that, I’ll get Anne to whip up my slinky new Cat Woman outfit. That should scare the mieces to pieces, don’t you think?
