Marathon
No, I’m not talking about chocolate bars.
Why they ever changed the name of that bar to “Snickers” is beyond me. It sounds too like Sniggers [or Knickers]. I never liked ’em anyway.
No, I’m not talking about that yoke they held in Dublin this weekend.
You know the thing – where they shut down an entire city so that a few thousand wonks can run in a circle and half kill themselves in the process? When will it occur to them that the finish line is only a short stroll from the start line? Idiots.
What I am talking about is the most irritating little fucker who lives in my ceiling. Yes, a fucking mouse.
He has been living up there for a few months at this stage, I reckon. He’s a weird little fucker in that he leaves no trace whatsoever. Some months ago he took an Oxo cube from a box and made a right fucking mess with bits of silver paper and Oxo cube all over the place Since then he hasn’t touched a thing. I moved all edibles for a while but started replacing them so I would know where to find them again. He still hasn’t touched anything.
Nor has he left any traces. You know those little trails of mouse-shit that somehow seem to mostly collect in the cutlery drawer? None. Not one turd. So he either cleans up after himself [unlikely] or he is the most constipated mouse in history [maybe he’s full of solidified beef gravy?]. Or maybe he has the decency to crap in the garden like the rest of us?
The problem is that every now and then he runs a fucking race around the gap between the kitchen ceiling and the roof. He makes one hell of a racket which annoys me and gives Penny a nervous twitch. That’s why I call him Marathon.
So how do I even know he’s a mouse and not some other miniature life form? Because a month or so ago I opened the cupboard where I happen to store Oxo cubes amongst a lot of other edibles, and there he was, sitting there staring at me with his twinkly little eyes. We started at each other for a few seconds, and then he was gone.
I have put out traps. He either ignores them or neatly eats the bait without setting off the trap. I have to admire him for that.
Cat seems blissfully unaware of his existence. She has been showing a weird interest in the bathroom lately so maybe she has picked up a mouse scent? Or maybe she just wants a shower? I don’t speak Cat Language so I have no way of knowing.
I suppose I will just have to tolerate his little bursts of energy.
Or wait until he chews through the lighting wires?
I hate those disgusting little beasts. I just rid myself of one in the past month. When I heard him eating my ramen noodles I set traps and duct taped his access hole closed. I threw out all the noodles and never heard from him since. He hasn’t touched the traps and there is no sign of him. He must have moved to a different apartment. Disgusting little beasts they are!
“and duct taped his access hole closed” For some reason my eyes skipped the word “access” there and I though to myself that it was a bit extreme?
Anyway I am delighted to hear that my cat is as fucking useless as yours.
You could try a few lines of Robbie Burns!
Wee, sleekit, cowran, tim’rous beastie,
O, what a panic’s in thy breastie!
Thou need na start awa sae hasty,
Wi’ bickering brattle!
I wad be laith to rin an’ chase thee,
Wi’ murd’ring pattle!
Now you’re just showing off, Ian. I bet you typed that lot directly from memory?
[*bloody teachers!*]
Sadly not, the best laid schemes o’ mice an’ men gang aft a-gley!
In contrast to popular myth, they aren’t cheese fans. Try fruit cake in the break-back trap: or that’s what I was told on a vermin eradication.
Make the thing pay rent.
Make the cat pay a fee for each day it doesn’t catch Marathon.
Oh, and don’t forget to warn Cat that it will also be a hefty fee if she catches Marathon and puts him somewhere where you can’t avoid stepping in the remains. Barefoot, of course, immediately after standing up one fine morn.
Peanut better. Mice love it. Stick that on the trap trigger and the little guy will be clobbered.
I do not like peanut butter, but I have a jar solely for baiting mousetraps. Beieve it or believe it not.
“crap in the garden like the rest of us”
Another keyboard sprayed with coffee.
Easily the best laugh of the week so far, for which many thanks.
😀
Irish Spring bar soap works a treat, we use it. Cut up small chunks from the bar and put them everywhere you think the mouse has traveled and watch the sucker move out. They hate the stuff. Toss a a couple pieces in the bastard’s access hole as well. Even better, use the chunks to heard it to your traps?