Jonola14

"JAAA-AA-AAACK THERE'S A MOUSE!" Debs shrieked as the tiny little rodent sprinted across my bedroom floor and out into the lounge.

And so there was, but I had no time to catch the little devil before heading off to France with work for a couple of days, so when I came back last night and saw the mouse dart across the lounge floor, it became a priority. I rose this morning after hearing faint scratching sounds and I again witnessed the mouse dashing across the floor to the safe haven of the lounge's nooks and crannies.

Before long I discovered where the mouse had been living - he'd chewed a hole in a cushion on the sofa in my bedroom, as well as a hundred pages of my UK road map for bedding and had happily munched his way through the pocket of my favourite trousers. This meant war. No mercy. Any ideas I had of not killing the mouse were instantly extinguished and I have now borrowed an ancient mouse-trap from the neighbour and I await the SNAP of revenge.

UPDATE - 13:47 - I've just discovered that the BASTARD has been snacking away on my extra long packet of McVitie's chocolate digestives, meaning I've had to throw the entire packet away. He's a dead mouse.

UPDATE - 17:23 - He's eaten the heels of my favourite sports socks. He's also disappeared. I'm going to kill this mouse if it's the last thing I do. BASTARD.

UPDATE - 18:05 - I've checked the entire downstairs for possible mouse hiding places but to no avail. I have, however, found a foam, yet perfectly adequate, baseball bat that I plan to beat the little shitbag to death with.

UPDATE - 07:17 (Sunday) - I was relaxing in a deep sleep when I heard a close scratching sound and promptly woke up, alert. The scratching stopped as I turned over in my bed and I heard the little patter of feet. Later investigation showed that the mouse was right at the end of my bed chewing his way through a cardboard box. This has to stop.

UPDATE - 14:35 (Sunday) - I have found a tea-towel that has been ripped to shreds by the little bastard. When is this going to stop? I saw the neighbour and now have a forty year old mouse trap baited with chocolate biscuit. I'll get you, mouse.

UPDATE - 20:56 (Sunday) - the biscuit has gone but there's no sign of the mouse, the swine. I've rebaited it and I lie in wait.

UPDATE - 07:35 (Monday) - DAMN! The new bait has disappeared and still no sign of the mouse. This calls for a new approach, I'm fed up with searching behind sofas, under wardrobes and down the side of units, I've had enough of wielding the foam baseball bat and using a pocket torch for guidance. This is going to work. I'm gonna use a Mars Bar.

UPDATE - 10:32 (Tuesday) - it was the dead of night. Complete silence descended as I sat in my bed in the early hours, reading page after page of the latest Stephen King horror novel. A girl is lost in the woods, with no food left and no water. She survives on berries and nuts, but she's getting sick, she's hallucinating, she's seeing things that aren't there. But are they? Her senses tell her she's being watched, there are huge claw marks on the trees and a decapitated deer lying in a pool of its own blood. Something is watching her. Watching, waiting, stalking, getting close and moving away again, waiting for the right moment to strike.

"WHAT THE FUKC?" I said, sitting bolt upright in my bed, back against the wall, fearing a paranormal encounter, a cold sweat beginning to seep through my trembling skin

"Got the bastad!" I gleefully exclaimed and hopped out of bed to find a mouse with its head crushed by the metal force of the mouse trap, its blood-filled eyes bulging from their sockets as it's last seconds of life flittered away. The pffft sound I'd heard had clearly been the pattering of its feet in a fruitless attempt to flee the metal bar that had broken its neck and pushed its eyes from its sockets.

Problem solved, no more mouse. No more holes in clothes, no more late night scratching of cardboard, no more infestation of cushions. It's over.

UPDATE - 23:43 (Wednesday) - a second mouse! The metallic jaws of death have done it again, crushing the back of it's neck and squeezing the last oodles of life out of it. Many more like this and I will have to rename the mouse trap to my 'weapon of mouse destruction'....

Splendid

is this working?

We had a mouse and caught it in a standard nasty mouse trap. I then had to take it outside and kill it with a spade. I felt guilty for weeks. Poor little thing.

Has it been caught yet? I am intrigued - is/was (!) it a brown mouse?

October 16, 2004

MOUSE IN THE HOUSE!