Vermin...or Gus Gus?

We have a guest in our house. His name is Rupert. He is  a  Mus musculus of the phylum Chordata and class Mammalia; in other words, a house mouse. Now, how I have a mouse, given that I have four dogs who pride themselves on jumping to every odd sound, every odor that I can or cannot smell and every movement from me walking down the hall to the wind blowing outside is beyond me, but there you have it. He (I am just running with it being male here, mostly as wishful thinking, given the reproductive possibilities) is a new addition to the household, only a few days, but he has managed to stir my husband and I up to disconcerting levels. The idea of a mouse is about as appealing as a cockroach. I miss my cats. Don't get me wrong, I rationally know that a clean home can be invaded by pests (some of my best friends in Hawaii had B-52-sized roaches and they were intimidatingly clean in their housekeeping habits), but the idea of a rodent wandering my baseboards and looking for nibbles in goodness only knows where makes us crazy. So, the morning after I saw Rupert, we were on the job...Oh, first, let me tell you how we found out about him.

Pretty cute for a disease-bearing vermin.

On a Saturday we were packing up some boxes on the dining table to send off to relatives when I noticed little black spots on the TABLE. Upon further inspection they were unmistakable. Teeny little black mouse poops. Ok... GROSS. David and I started looking for more and dammit we found some. We found where the little stinky bastardo has been perusing the dining room, part of the kitchen and the fireplace (it gets cold ya know). So, since we live in Hanta Virus land, we sprayed bleach water on everything and cleaned up. That night we were trying to relax by the fire and watch a movie when, out of the corner of my eye, I see movement and THERE HE WAS, blatantly walking on my fireplace hearth, like he paid the mortgage. "Mouse!" I yelled and the chase was on. Of course he got away and one of my dogs slept right through it, not ten feet from where the mouse was cruising. The next morning-we bought six humane traps and baited them each with a piece of saltine cracker spread with peanut butter and sprinkled with bird seed; a feast! We will see if he takes the bait. I miss my cats.

Today I spoke with some good friends about the mouse. Turns out I am far from alone in my battle; one friend lives in the mountains and deals with them all the time, another gets "slammed" by them every fall. Apparently the crafty little boogers like to come inside for the winter (of course they do). Did I say I miss my cats? One of my friends, a major animal lover, told me quite frankly that she is the trap queen; the snap-trap queen...ewww. 

I know that many reading this will say that the line is drawn when it comes to "vermin" invading the house. Out come the poisons, the snap-traps, the sticky-die-there-or-rip-your-feet-off-trying-to-get-away traps, the guns, the bazookas, etc. I even found instructions for homemade traps on the internet that drowned them for you! OMG. I am sorry, but I can't get past seeing the little critters and imagining them wearing little shirts and scarves, singing "Cinderelly, Cinderelly!" Or, remembering when my cousins had pet mice (and rats) and loving being able to hold them, put them down each other's shirts, etc. Or, the time I rescued a field mouse from my grandparents' cat and brought it in to "show" my grandmother -yes, I had an evil streak (after the screeching and slight cursing subsided, my grandfather pulled me aside and told me that field mice do not make appropriate pets). So I had, in good conscience, to give the humane traps a try. To appease my husband's sensibilities  however, I conceded that if they didn't work, we would discuss snap-traps (oy).

Now, I also know that these adorable little mammals carry disease, poop and pee everywhere, can get through holes the size of an eraser (!), eat 15-20 times a day (granted, they have tiny stomachs), and breed like, well, rodents. New Mexico is familiar with Hanta Virus, Bubonic plague and Rabies and it can be all too easy to become complacent when one thinks they are in control when in reality there may be a hundred mice in your garage plotting a coup d'etat for control of your living quarters. Again, I say, ewww. We never had to deal with this issue because for the ten years we have lived here, we had CATS. Not just cats, but big, "hunterly" (I know it's not a word, but I like it anyway) cats who liked nothing much better than a bird appetizer. What mouse is going to invade with three cats in the house? The kamikaze mice, that's who. We lost two of our cats to coyotes last year (another story) and the third is 19 (yes, nineteen) years old and her hunting days are pretty much over. A mouse (and its relatives) could probably crawl into her bed with her and she likely would either not notice or not care.

Well, I decided that this new little adventure in home ownership was something I needed to document, so below please find a record of how this mouse thing is proceeding. I have no idea how long it will continue (hoping not very long), but consider yourself invited to join me.

It looks pissed, doesn't it?

Day 1 - Rupert is a pretty savvy mouse, it seems. He entered one of the traps, grabbed the feast I laid out for him and backed out of the trap. Tonight-we stick the peanut butter side down in the trap so he has to work for it.

Day 2- Nothing in the morning but by 1p David was calling me to say we caught a mouse! I am not sure we really thought those little "humane" gray boxes would actually work, but lo and behold, when I arrived home there was a tiny, but chubby (babies?), little mouse trying desperately to be unseen in the corner of the little gray box. Of course, Blue had the trap and was trying to gnaw it open (a little late, dog!), but David grabbed it and knew from the weight that a mouse was our prisoner! We drove to a park nearby and let it go in the desert. Fast as lightning that little critter zoomed away-no wonder we never caught it that other night. Oh, and note to all:: Rupert's name was officially changed to Rufina. We watched her zoom away, went home, and rebaited the traps (even in Cinderella there were significantly more than one).

Day 2 -pm. No more when I got home, but bait is set and we shall see what happens tomorrow. I know it is a dream to think Rufina was the only invader, but it is a good dream...UPDATE: Day 8 - No mice or sign thereof since the first mouse was caught. The traps remain untouched and there is no unsanitary evidence of occupation. I cannot believe we were lucky enough to have only ONE mouse. A scout perhaps; one who was sent out to find refuge from the cold and upon never returning the clan moved elsewhere? Somehow, I doubt it, so we remain ever vigilant with the saltines, peanut butter and gray boxes at the ready. I guess I won't worry until I see I tiny little laundry basket...