The story of my life, it feels like "picture go fast" (fast forward) to "picture stop" (pause)... as Adrian Monk, the Obsessive Compulsive Disorder Detective would say as he viewed the crime scene videos. I have been slightly obsessed with the series, thanks to my coworker who lent me eight seasons of MONK.
So, "picture go back" (rewind)... Jared and I used horsetrailer to move from South Dakota to Idaho, and started working at our jobs in end of August.
We had our share of adventures in the past four months of our residency in Idaho.
We took brief adventures around the country, finding waterfalls, as the area is famous for the underground reservoir of Snake River.
We also adopted a dog from our landlord, Bella, and became foster parents for Lilly, the kitten from a friend until May.
However, we managed to inadventurely welcome mice in our house. We have killed twelve mice since Jared noticed a mouse creeping around in our bathroom. It was enough to drive me bonkers. But TWELVE mice?!
Let me paint a story for you:
We trapped a mouse in the garage area the week before Halloween. Then we noticed insulation coming out of the stove, an unfortunate sign of mice in the stove.
Since that moment, I have been leery eying the stove, for more action.
...droppings between the broilers and the oven.
I cleaned it vigorously with BLEACH and washed the rags TWICE in hot water.
...droppings appeared again.
Oh heavens. It was actually when I kneeled and prayed, "Lord, please spare me. I love every little creatures you graced me with, Bella, Lilly... and my dogs while growing up, but I can't stand MICE! They are so dirty, and bit disgusting when they are dead. Praise You for my husband. But, Lord, please HELP!"
As my usual style is to add pictures.
But, please. Me pausing a moment to take pictures of the droppings and the dead mice?
I don't think so. I was too busy fretting over them, to pause and snap a picture.
Lilly and Bella enjoyed the sight of Jared and I being busy checking the traps and laying out poison, making sure that it is out of their reach.
The first mouse was trapped in garage.
Second, third, fourth, fifth, sixth, seventh and eighth mice were scooped up by Jared as it was found in the insulation of the oven! Landlord's son, James, came by to open up the old stove, and dug around, and found a nest.
*faints*
*recovers*
Yes. You heard me. A nest in the oven.
Sorry, I'm not talking about a baby cooking in the metaphorically speaking oven. I'm talking about SEVEN mice in the oven.
Jared dug around the insulation with the screwdriver, and mother mouse ran across the oven.
*shivers at the thought*
So, we set out a trap in the oven drawer, and waited for the mother mouse to be caught.
Three hours later, a tail was sticking out of the trap.
Jared and I high fived each other.
Who knew this 15 months old marriage would lead to this, being excited to find furry little corpses?!
Ninth, tenth, eleventh, and twelfths mice was caught in the garage. I will never forget the last mouse caught. Lilly and Bella was cuddling (yes, so adorable) in the garage when I woke up early in the morning for work, and I went to shower as usual, then came to the garage door to let Bella out for the day as I work. But, Bella and Lilly wasn't in their usual spot near the door on Bella's dog bed, they were on the opposite corner of the garage, Lilly swatting the dead mouse around.
I think it's time for me to teach Lilly not to play with her food! But, I was proud of her. Catching her first prey! But, I just scrambled out of the garage, yelping quietly, as I didn't want to wake the sleeping giant... er, I mean Jared.
It has been quite for the past three weeks as we laid out poison everywhere, in oven drawer, in pantry, in garage shelves, away from the pets' reach.
Consider this World War III on the varmints of our residence in Gooding. My parents enjoyed hearing the different stories of all twelve dead mice so much, that my father mailed me a (used) live mouse trap. I opened it gingerly, and realized that mouse touched the trap, and had Jared to open it all the way and place in the garage. Dad also gave the Idaho mice a treat... packaged poison from South Dakota.
Don't you just feel the love we have for our rodent population?
