Yes. We have mice. Sadly, like bedbugs and roaches, this is not a problem reserved only for those in rent-controlled apartments. (Though really, you get such a great deal, I think taking the vermin on for the rest of us would be quite considerate.)
We knew they were here when they left their tell-tale little calling cards. Poops. Gross. I was out for blood. And I got it. Conrad killed three. And we saw no more poops. Gone? You know the answer. Of course not.
No, these guys went to rally the troops. To bury their dead and allow the proper time for mourning, and then to double their force and come out tales waving high, little mouse toes scampering lightly. They took this new mission on with a certain gusto I hadn’t expected. In fact, this latest crew they’ve sent in is bordering on rude. Guerilla warfare. They will walk out and say hi. Scurry along the wall only to pop down where you’re quite sure there is no opening. And traps? Oh, we can lure them in. I’m a fisherman’s daughter – and I can bait with the best of ‘em. But much to my chagrin, there little 0.5″ brains are smarter than me …
Note: Merl is standing ON the trap
And so I give you Merl. Merl is small. I mean tiny. Merl is the bomb squad. They send Merl in first. He scampers over to the trap and inspects the food. Then he gives the all clear. It goes like this, “Hey! Food! Organic peanut butter dipped in a lovely imported parmigiano reggiano!” (Note: NYC mice are fickle. They like mom’s homemade cookies and imported cheese – the other stuff, gets a turned nose and an extra poop to emphasize their dislike.)
And then out comes Murray. Murray is fierce. He is the brains of the operation. Murray inspects the trap for function. He finds the best way to extract the food from the locking mechanism and export it to who knows where. Murray has the soft, quick hands of a power-thief.
How do I know about Merl and Murray? I observed all this from my home office, looking out into the kitchen, where I watched the showdown between man and beast. And we lost.
Well Merl, well Murray, you may have won this battle. But we will win the war. This I can promise you. Tomorrow we are bringing in our big guns. The exterminator arrives with WoMD and he’s not afraid to use them. And if you win that battle too, I have another trick up my sleeves. Much to Conrad’s chagrin, it’s a one-word answer that starts with “C” and ends with “AT”. … But we’ll only bring out that dirty word if all else fails. It’s that or move.
Bring it on.
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