If I haven’t said so before, the Crankee Yankee and I live in a house built in 1953. It needed a lot of renovation and repair in the last nine years, so it was inevitable that a few “squatters” took up residence in the attic; what we call “the occasional field mouse.”
I should have been revolted by them, but unfortunately, these mice are adorable; like Disney mice. They have tiny chubby bodies covered in velvety gray fur, big black eyes, little pink paws and they are only about 2″ long. As our cats are expert mousers, now and then they will nab one.
Previously, we’ve been able to escort the one mouse or two out of the house. I use the old Dixie cup strategy; get the mouse trapped into a corner, and put a small Dixie cup near it—usually it will panic and run into the cup. I then close the escape route with another cup so that the mouse is in a “cup cage.” From there I can walk it outside and *set it free.
The other night Nala, our one female cat, flushed a mouse out into the living room. The other cats gave chase and the mouse scooted right under the closet door, and the chase was over for the night. The next morning, we went out in the kitchen and there was Nala, positively beaming over a dead mouse.
As I bent over to scoop it up in the two afore-mentioned Dixie cups, it moved. The little bugger had been playing possum and was very much alive.
But by this time, he/she was in the cup cage, so I took him/her out into the garden and set him/her free. I asked him/her to spread the word that the inside of our house is verboten (forbidden) to them from now on.
I swear that mouse winked at me.
*Funny story, a friend recently told me about a friend of hers with a similar mouse problem. When she caught one, she painted its tail, then let it go. That way she would know if the same mouse came back into her house!