Callooh! Callay!

He took his vorpal sword in hand:
Long time the manxome foe he sought --
So rested he by the Tumtum tree,
And stood awhile in thought.

And, as in uffish thought he stood,
The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,
Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,
And burbled as it came!

Ok, it wasn't a sword, it was a brown paper bag. And it wasn't a wood, it was my kitchen. And really, it was more of a little squeak, definitely not a burble. The Operation Demousification Relocation Program (at least at this writing) has proven to be successful! In all, four mousies were bagged and moved. Holes were foamed, along with other deterring measures, and it seems to be working. I sincerely hope this is my last mousy posting.

Curly Girl: 2, Mice: 0

I had begun Operation Demousification - a lifestyle-changing process of keeping the pantry door tightly shut, the dog's food bowl up off the floor and covered, garbage can empty, no source of food anywhere and no hiding spots available - and the starvation tactic was making the mousies really bold. The cheeky little bastards were out at all hours and I was seeing them more than was necessarily comfortable. After I saw undeniable evidence that they had been on my kitchen counter (O!M!G!), I had had it. I didn't really want to kill them - micies are people too, after all - I just didn't want them in my house.

I had narrowed down where it was they were coming and going from and decided to get expanding foam to block the egress. As it turns out, after I got back from the hardware store, little mousy made his presence known in my studio. I heard a noise in the boxes I use to store the various gauges of silver wire and, sure enough, there he was. His fear seemed to paralyze him because he could easily have jumped out, but I managed to get a bag over the box and the mouse, and relocated the little guy about a block away (no, not to someone else's house). Because my camera was within arms reach, I got a picture just before bagging him up. Kinda cute, huh? The box is about 5" across, so you can tell how small he is.

A second relocation opportunity presented itself today when, about an hour after the first, I was in the kitchen putting on shoes to take Kana for a walk and I heard a peculiar noise. Mousy Two had gotten himself into a spot he couldn't get out of. I grabbed a grocery bag and the made a second trip down the street to let this little guy join his friend.

I still plan on plugging up the holes. Where there's one (or two) mousies, there are bound to be others.

Topo Gigio no morte

Uh, sorry Aimee, the peppermint oil only made my house smell like a chewing gum factory. Mousy is scampering about unimpeded and laughing and laughing. Under my feet. During the day. Right past the dog. Laughing and laughing. This morning I had it trapped under the fridge. Whoosh! There he goes. Laughing and laughing. I've done everything I can think of to dissuade Topo Gigio from hanging here. Although I do not want to become Mousy Murder Inc., I might have to go to something a bit stronger and potentially lethal. We'll see who's laughing then.

The story behind the title of this post is that I went to school for a year in Rome. Although we didn't live at the school, there was a kitchen there for the students to use. One evening I was in the kitchen and the only other person there was the school janitor. I didn't speak much Italian and he didn't speak any English. I went to wash something and saw that there was a dead mouse in the sink. Not knowing what else or how else to say something so the janitor could come see (and remove it), I said excitedly, pointing in the sink, "Topo Gigio es morte!" Which means "A little hand puppet from 30 years ago is died in the sink!" First he looked at me like I had an extra arm growing out of my forehead, then he laughed and laughed.

The Mouse Police Still Aren't Sleeping Too Well

So my friend Aimee (Newrotic Girl), the self-proclaimed mouse guru, said to gently discourage the mousies I should take "cotton balls and put 1-2 drops of peppermint essential oil on them." When she did it, she "Tucked them into the corners of my living room, bathroom, and kitchen (it wasn't a large apartment). You might want to put them in places where there might be a hole in the wall -- like where hoses come in for washer/dryer or heat or stove or whatnot." Simple enough. I ran right out and bought the essential oil.

This evening I went through the apartment stuffing little cotton bits here and there. I might have over done it. It smells like the Doublemint Chewing Gum International Chewathon is taking place here. I now know how this little remedy works: it burns the crap out of their little mousy noses cuz I know my sinuses are clear.

The Mouse Police Never Sleep

I got a mouse in the house. I'm all hyped up as I just had a small battle with said mouse and the mouse won. I had it trapped in the pantry and I was going to bag it and take it out. The little fucker (actually it's a cute, small, grey lil guy) ran right past me. Gotta admire that sort of guts! Big old giant coming at him with a grocery bag and he says "hell no, I won't go" and runs for it. It's got it too good here: big bowl of kibbles n bits and fresh water. I really hate finding 1/2 a cup of nibbled dog food and mousy dung (Mao Zedong!) under the kitchen sink. Bums me out, I feel like I'm running a mouse motel.