Yes, I get the irony.
So, I have mice.
For a while, we have been semi-peacefully cohabitating, because I could not bring myself to snap the necks of creatures that are not doing me any real harm, and I could not bring myself to buy Havahart traps intending to release these creatures to their deaths of hypothermia, but now, it's springish, and they are on my last nerve, and I am ready to get rid of them.
Not quite neck-snapping ready or poison ready, but ready nonetheless.
Any thoughts? Havahart? Sonic mouse repellent? Any particular brands you recommend?
Oh, and there will be no cats involved in this process. I am allergic, but that's not why. I would just rather deal with live mice than tortured uneaten dead ones that someone presents as a gift. Shudder.
Oh, and cousins who are coming to stay with me next month? Don't worry; I'm sure they'll all be gone by then. No, really.
Thursday, April 10, 2008
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5 comments:
All you have to do is wait until you find they've violated your larder or space to the point where you rather like the idea of snapping their nasty little vermin necks.
For me it was when they were running around in the walls at night so I couldn't sleep.
I'm with cousin mouse. As my family learned in our Arlington townhouse, it doesn't take so awfully long for that "snap" to become almost satisfying, she said, 11 snaps later...
If not cats, how'bout an owl or a snake? They seem less likely to leave the job unfinished...
For a while I had a housemate called Tad Dill. He would kill mice and squirrels with his rugby cleats, which was way more entertaining than a cat, and at least minimally effective. But if you're not into adopting Tad...
The sonic devices work to a point, but might merely drive the critters into another part of the house.
Keep your ears out for chewing in the walls. If it gets far enough along they can get into your wiring, shorting out outlets and causing some fire risk. (Speaking from experience here...) If you're that far along you should think again about snap traps.
In Illinois I discovered that the black furry darting thing permanently in my peripheral vision was a mouse that, given the amount of pellet-like crap I discovered when I changed a hard drive, was living in my computer.
It must have been warm and toasty there.
My daughter, 3 years old at the time, thought it was the cutest thing ever, which meant my wife and I had to plot the mouse's demise very quietly, feeling like cads.
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