A few months ago, back when it was still cold outside, my mom was staying with us for a few days. She told us she heard some movement in the wall of our downstairs bedroom and said that we either had mice or squirrels. That weekend we set some traps in our unfinished basement and sure enough, we caught a mouse. And then another mouse. (We also caught one in the washing machine but that’s another story for another time.) We’ve been living in this house for four years now and never once had we seen evidence of mice before, but they were definitely getting in now. After some poking around in our basement, we noticed that there was a HUGE hole that went from our basement ceiling into the backyard, right where the cable guy had drilled to run new lines into our house. There was no need to drill a hole that big, nor did he bother to seal it up. That was last fall. So we’ve potentially had mice in our house since last fall. Which means they’ve had PLENTY of time to breed. We sealed the hole up immediately but the damage had been done. We have mice.
After we caught the first three, we just sort of forgot about it and figured we solved the problem. A month or two later, I started noticing little mice poop in the corners of our basement. And then on the storage shelves. It was probably another month before I got sick of asking my husband to buy more traps and I finally did it myself last weekend. Then the other night, I went in the basement to check the traps and I’ll be damned if a mouse didn’t just fall out of the ceiling and run past my trap! While another one stared at me from above the air conditioning vent! Seriously. It just looked at me. I’m pretty sure they were taunting me. So we set more traps. And either those little buggers are smart and have figured out our traps, or they just don’t like cheese and peanut butter. Either way, it’s stressing me out because each day that passes, I just imagine more and more mice babies being born. And then I imagine them venturing up the basement stairs into the rest of the house. A house that I’m not very good at keeping clean as it is, which means an all-you-can-eat-buffett for mice. And then they’ll tell their little mice friends and family and they’ll ALL come upstairs to eat crumbs in my kitchen. And then I’ll have to move. Or die in piles of mouse poop.
I think I need a cat. A basement cat. Like this one.