Okay, so, I have mice. More specifically, I have mouse. I have known this for a couple of weeks and I have tried a number of holistic methods to repel the little dude - I cleaned out the hutch and under the hutch where I thought he had been hiding; stopped up any holes that he might have squeezed through; elevated the cat food onto (what I thought was) a mouse-proof perch; and sprinkled spearmint oil throughout the place. And I thought for a while that it had worked. Tonight I discover that my efforts are for naught. Also I discover that my cat is really just a big pussy.
I was working on the couch when I heard a little noise in the breakfast nook. Me and the cat got up to investigate and saw a little tail just disappearing under the hutch. Curses! I keel-hauled my first mate and scolded him roundly, at which point he looked up at me with his whiskery face and said What, I don't have any claws on my front end. A pox on your previous owners, I swore under my breath. I sprinkled a few gallons of spearmint oil around and went back to work. More noise from the aft quarters. I got up very quietly and positioned myself where I had a good view of the entire breakfast nook area. And watched as a little nose poked out from under the hutch, followed by the rest of the loathsome (loathsome in a cute way), beady-eyed little fellow. As bold as a big pair of brassy bold balls. I didn't move an eyelash or even breathe as I watched him skip nimbly through the spearmint oil buffer zone, leap up to the cat food bowl on top of the upturned glass vase, take out a piece of food, and skip nimbly back to the hiding spot under the hutch. I was speechless. Shocked, thrilled in the way that you get thrilled when you watch a horror movie, and, I admit, grudgingly respectful of the tiny poacher. Just then my cat came sauntering into the room. WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU, I asked him politely. He looked back at me and said, hey look, I'm really cute when I do this, and then he sat down, crossed his little paws and curled his tail around himself. You are basically usesless, I told him. Mroww? he said. Fired, I said.
So, my plan now is to go to Ace Hardware tomorrow morning and get one of those traps where you put the peanut butter in it and then the mouse goes Yum and then he walks in and then the door closes gently but firmly behind him. And then I will take him and release him to the wild, which I guess means the dog park down the street.
I just wish I didn't respect him quite so much at this point. I also kind of wish I hadn't named him Byron.