I've calmed down, a bit.
After four-lizard Thursday, Louie took a bit of a break from killing. A bit.
We had NO lizards all weekend, which was nice since we had company and the last thing you'd want visitors to deal with is the murder of pestilence in the house.
We did however wake up on Monday morning to one dead mouse in the dining room. The upside, it was already dead. Dead mice make me ill, but live ones are worse. Which brings me to this:
Louie sauntered through the cat door just 20 minutes ago with A GIANT MOUSE!
I mean GIANT.
He had its head clamped in his mouth. Sick!
I was optimistic that it was already dead, since it was clearly in a bad way, what with the whole head clamped in a cat's mouth situation.
Alas.
Louie released the huge beast in my kitchen, where it scampered around a bit, and Louie chased it a bit.
Then it ran in between the washer and the dryer.
Let me take a minute here to say, this is the moment I have been dreading ever since Louie's turned our yard into the killing fields. I hate mice. I can't pick up a dead mouse even in a friggin' radiation suit. It's just not going to happen. I even called Bob home from work once to retrieve a dead mouse and dispose of it. I am, to say the least, squeamish.
Now, Bob's phone isn't working today, so it's me, Louie and the mouse. FUUUUUUUUUUCK.
OK, mouse, trapped between dryer and washer, Louie furiously pawing at it. He can't get it. He GIVES UP AND WALKS OUT OF THE ROOM. Oh HELL NO!
I scream at him "You brought that thing in here! Now YOU KILL IT!!"
He looks at me like I'm totally missing the point, yawns and lays down in the kitchen. ASSHOLE!
(SIDENOTE: this all happened about 15 minutes ago, and my heart is still pounding. I am SO WEAK!)
I go into the laundry room and peer between the appliances. I see the mouse's tail. I move the tabletop ironing board that is blocking him, he skitters, I drop the board. I THINK it landed on him, and he MIGHT be dead. I am too freaked out to go check.
Way way too freaked out.
Meanwhile, I blocked the cat door so Louie can no longer push it INWARD. He could however push it outward and ventured back outside, presumably for some fresh meat.
I hate that jackass.
I have no idea what to do now. I'm sweaty and shaky. Full on panic attack.
How can something so tiny make me so deranged?
7 comments:
I know what it's like to get panic attacks. I get them all the time. No fun at all.
Louie needs to know that bringing creatures into the house, dead or alive, is a no-no.
But how can one tell that to a cat?
If it makes you feel better, we have trapped three mice from our pantry. One a year ago left by Achilles (may he rest in peace), and two brought in by Hector the Warrior (one escaped death by BBQ fork by running off the porch very fast, and one met his demise in the garbage disposal, as you well know. Lo and behold, there is a fourth mouse munching on our potato chips and we have yet to capture him. I'm getting rather used to washing mouse poop off every can I pull forth from the pantry. Forget panic attacks... I'm going to die of food poisoning by eating something that has been peed upon. Talk about nasty.
I could not allow mice to live in my house. I will bitch, whine and complain and cry until Bob catches and removes the mice the DAY they are discovered.
I don't care how many bad words he says while he's doing it, I can't live with mice.
In fact, I'm over at my sister in laws right now because I can't be in the house with a possibly dead mouse.
Yep. I'm JUST THAT CRAZY!
*slap* *slap* you needed that.
..Now get a hold of yourself... it's just a little bitty mouse... it's not like it's a roach the size of a tricycle like we have in Florida! Comon!
Update Update
I did kill it with the ironing board, and thus spent 7.5 hours in town with my sister in law for nothing, though being in the house with a dead thing gives me the heebie jeebies.
Also, it was NOT a mouse, it was a rat.
Ew.
Eliz,
My mom had two mice in the pantry last summer. She bought air-tight containers for everything and made it so that the mouse would starve to death unless he could digest acrylic and plastic.
I'm afraid that would just move him out into the house proper where he would bite a toddler eating Goldfish crackers.
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