There is a mouse
living in my house
He's quite a louse
And so I grouse
To my spouse
And I will douse
This little mouse
...with toxic chemicals
So last week, I was up in my study (okay, so it's not really a study, per se, just a spare bedroom with a bookshelf and a shoddy desk), and I decided to do some organizing.
The hubbs and I had placed a bag o' Christmas joy up in the study right after the holiday, and I forgot it had some chocolate treaties in it. I pick up the bag, one of those "re-use me and save the trees" bags from La Target, and there is a big hole in the bottom. Odd, I think, since it was intact last I saw it. Then I see the poopies. I do not like poopies of any sort floating around my house, and these were clearly the excrement of a rodent, either mouse or perhaps wild dwarf hamster. I was annoyed that we had a critter, but living in the middle of cornfields and suffering through the Arctic temperatures we've had in Chicagoland lately, I thought nothing of it. I'd just get one of those humane little boxes and catch the bugger, then let him go in some other subdivision.
Then I saw what was apparently worth chewing through a bag for.
Candy wrappers, shredded like confetti. The little bastard ate my gourmet chocolates.
Gone was my earth-mother, peace-keeper, animal-loving urge to play catch and release with Mickey. Went to the hardware store, bought some traps. Homeboy's in trouble now...if only I could catch him...
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