My Dear Field Mice Friends,
Although I added the word "friends" to the above greeting, I must admit that I honestly don't consider you to be a friend of mine. However, since I hate to be the one short on social skills and don't want to risk sounding too blunt, I'm going to sugar coat this message to you.
First of all, I am sorry that every year, your thick, dense, bean-field home suddenly goes away in one afternoon. And I one-thousand percent understand the want and need and desire to escape cold weather. Believe me-- I can't blame you for dashing under our doors or windows or walls (or dryer vent?) when the mercury drops below 40 degrees. And I agree, our house is lovely. We have plenty of little nooks and crannys perfect for a tiny 1 pound field mouse to enjoy. And, judging by the way you have nibbled through tablecloths, dishrags, and floor rugs, I'm assuming that we have plenty of textiles that please a mouse in certain ways as well.
But my friends, it's time for you to go. The other day, when I sat in perfect silence, eating my lunch at the counter and saw your shadow skitter across the floor, my entire body was covered in goosebumps for close to an hour. As much as I tried, I could not get rid of my shivers and momentarily stood paralized in my own kitchen as I debated my next move. Should I try to find a bucket? A pan? A broom? What if you scoot past me and end up in a bathroom or worse-- a bedroom!? Instead, I stomped around trying to be my biggest and loudest self, while you stood there on your hind legs and stared at me. I do not like the way you wiggled your little nose. I do not like your wiry whiskers. I do not like your splayed little mouse toes. I do not like you. I'm sure the neighbors enjoyed hearing me say things like, "Okay mouse, it's me and you and I'm gonna win! You just wait! Yep, youuuuuu just wait.....until Mason comes home." Because you and I both know that he's really the one you need to fear.
In some really really teeny-tiny way, I am sorry that seven of your relatives have lost the battle to our awesome "Tom Cat" mouse traps since our fateful meeting last week. (Yes, I immediately bought 8 traps to set throughout the house.) I'm not really into killing things, even mice. But you, dear things, cute as you may be in children's books, you are not cute in our house. Go ahead and take up residence in the shed-- I'm sure it's pretty warm or go ahead and cuddle under our deck. I'm sure Charlie has dropped tons of food and toys over the course of the fall to keep you fed and entertained all winter. But please please please, remember who's the boss here (obviously, it's my husband) and have a happy winter....anywhere other than in our house.
PS: I pulled out the big guns the other night and told Husband that we're getting a cat if you don't go away. And little friends, I mean it. I'm giving him 60 days to eradicate your presence and then I'm bringing home a cute little mouse-eating fur ball. The timing should work out perfectly-- a kitten will make the perfect Christmas present for Charlie. (cue evil witch cackle here)
|Couldn't resist adding this adorable picture. Too bad these little critters are not so cute in real life.|