Days of Mice and Roses

The last time I posted, it was about our mice problem. I'm here tonight to post about our ongoing mice problem.

First of all, more times than I can count did I go to the cupboard and remove the drawer under the stove, expecting to find a mouse past his mousy expiration date, broken-backed and immobile in one of my traps. Each and every single time I went to check, the bait was gone, and the traps were unsprung. Every time. Katrina theorized that they were too small (and, therefore, too light) to snap the traps. I have a different theory.

Being vermin, they are the spawn of Satan, and therefore have magical powers which allow them to gorge themselves on the dollop of Jif (creamy - I ain't giving those monsters my crunchy) or sliver of Tillamook sharp cheddar resting on the trap, the release mere microns from snapping, without suffering any injury whatsoever. Monsters, I tell you, monsters!

But, at least one monster got its comeuppance today.

Gross-out warning: anyone with a timid stomach or who has just finished eating, well, anything (including Tic-Tacs), you best not read on. Don't say I didn't warn ya.

11:15 RRRINNNNG!
Hello, this is Mr. Rainey.
Melly caught half a mouse.
........ (puzzled silence) She wha-?
She caught half a mouse. The rear half.
Ummmmmmmmmmm....okay....
I don't know where the front of him is. If I find it, I'll call you.
Oh, by all means, do.

When I got home today, my dear wife met me in the garage as I was parking my truck.
"I found the other half of the mouse," she announced, triumphantly.
"Um, okay...where was it?"
"It's under the stove."
"What did you do with it?" I asked, hopefully.
"Do with it? What did I do with it? I did nothing with it. You need to get it."

Grumbling, I followed her inside, and crouched down to see under the stove. There, in the very back by the wall, was the anterior end of a former charter member of the Mickey Mouse Club. I'll spare you the gories...



...nah, I won't. He was obviously, well, torn in half quite expertly, and there were tiny little spots of blood against the wall and on the floor, mute testimony to the latent mouser qualities of my cats. I reached in under the stove with a paper towel, gripped the foresection of the mouse, and



it was stuck.



Yep.



It wouldn't move.




Super gross-out warning - turn back if you know what's good for your tummy!





So, I gripped more firmly through the paper towel, and pulled.





And got a quarter of a mouse. (Hey, I warned you!)



The rest of him (roughly, just his head) was firmly wedged in the crack between where the wood flooring ends and the drywall begins.



Knowing I was in for a struggle, I went to the garage and procured a pair of needlenose pliers. Upon returning to the kitchen, I slid the entire stove forward, and positioned myself in the alcove where the stove normally sits.


I considered my now quartered quarry for a few moments. It seems this mouse, in its effort to escape Melly, actually wedged its own head into the crack, and Melly hooked her claws into its rear end and pulled. Of course, something's got to give in a situation like that, and, in this case, it was the mouse itself.




Okay, I'm really not kidding here! Don't read any further, 'cause it gets really, really, REALLY gross!!!




I positioned the claws of the pliers around the mouse's skull, and tried to pull it out, to no avail. I first twisted left, then right, but I couldn't seem to dislodge it. Then, in an effort to reestablish my grip, I applied just a shade too much pressure on the handles of the pliers, and...



POP!



Yep.



Read on, you've been expecting it.




No joke, this poor little mouse's brain actually exploded out of his skull.



Not to be crass (no, never, especially in a post about a disemboweled mouse), but his head popped like a massive, mouse head-shaped zit.


This was nearly the end for Katrina, as I was giving her the blow by blow while she sat in the family room, holding the dog. When I reached this point, she clapped her hands over her ears and began to shout, "LA LA LA LA LA LA! I can't hear you!!!!"




Now that its skull had been, uh, reorganized, it was a snap to extract the mouse's head from the spot where it had been wedged.



The good news is, that particular mouse's agony is all over.



The bad news is, the cats tell us there's at least one more mouse.