That’s right, little meeces. There’s a new Mr. Jinks in town.
For those of your who are unfamiliar with Hanna-Barbera cartoons from the olden golden age, here’s who I’m talking about:
Needless to say, the mystery of the hole in my whole wheat peanut butter sandwich was solved the next day when I almost dropped my coffee pot on seeing a small black mouse running around trying to find more peanut butter…or whole wheat bread, whichever tickled his rodentous fancy. Rodentous, derived from the word ‘rodent’ is clearly not a real word….until 2 seconds ago.
Since then, I have quite literally been on a mouse hunt…while trying to stay outside of a 5 feet radius of my kitchen and the peanut butter jar. The little high frequency device that was supposedly supposed to drive mice away has been driving me crazy but clearly is like crappy but tolerable music to Little Dex. (Jerry, Pixie and Dixie were all taken)
I unwrapped all my new purchases and applied peanut butter to everything hoping to catch the little sucker. Dex, you’re a ridiculously revolting albeit cute little guy but you eat my breakfast, you die…or least be trapped in a box while I debate whether or not I throw you in the garbage or release you in your natural habitat: the Toronto subway tracks.
So I laid my traps in all the strategic places, turned off the lights and went to bed with one eye open. There was so much peanut butter in the open. Dex would be a gonner by morning. But I couldn’t catch a wink of sleep. Every slight scrapping noise woke me up. Every little rustle made me think of Dex struggling in a pasty sea of peanut butter. What a way to go.
And then I heard it. Rustles and squeaks in my ceiling. Dex had brought his entire family and they were partying up in my ceiling. Oh sweet baby Jesus! Now I was never going to fall asleep. My over-active 3am brain imagined a thousand meeces running all over my ceiling and my ceiling falling down with the weight of their good times. Clearly, at the time the thought of my ceiling falling down on me seemed entirely possible and the mental image of being covered in meeces and pieces of ceiling gave me a painful urge to pee.
But I was frozen. I couldn’t move or sleep. All I could do was listen to their rustles and squeaks and hold in my pee. Needless to say, it was a night ill-spent. I woke up only to find all my traps empty. Either Dex had fled the scene of my horrendous Mr. Jinks-esque atrocities or had a peanut allergy and actually just wanted whole wheat bread.
Either way, I know Dex is on the loose playing this cat and mouse game with me. Typical male behaviour. But I’m three steps ahead of him. My landlords will hopefully have an exterminator during the week and once and for all evict this unwelcome troop of breakfast-eaters. After all, I’m pretty sure even dumb old Mr. Jinks would have done this after being outsmarted by some miserable meeces. Or maybe not.
I’m curious to know if any of you ever had a mouse problem and if you did, how did you deal with it? I’d definitely prefer to do this without those traps that snap on its victims and sputter their blood all over the floor though. I really don’t like cleaning up.
MEECE UPDATE***- The vast amounts of peanut butter strategically placed around my kitchen obvisouly got the better of Little Dex. However, I have severly underestimated this evil rodent. After having checked all my traps, I found that Dexter had cleverly eaten all the peanut butter from the traps without being stuck or trapped. He also thought it would be the polite thing to do by shitting all over them as a thank you for feeding him. The little f**ker is going to pay.