An article I read the other day stated that we share 99% of our genes with mice. I don’t know if this is true or not, but the author went on to state, “ Not only are mouse genes like ours, so are the development of their embryos, their patterns of disease, and even their behavioral problems. Mice get stressed too.”
Really? Mice get stressed? Considering the amount of stress mice cause in my life it’s a bit tough for me to feel sorry for them. Although, after this past week we might be even. Hubby has wreaked a considerable amount of havoc on the rodent population and I hope they are so stressed they have to check in to little stress centers far away from my kitchen.
Rats enjoying the feed from daughter’s three miniature goats are what started the rampage. I had been hinting for a while that perhaps we should find the goats a new home because the cost of feed was one of many things I wanted to cut from our burgeoning budget. When we discovered the rats, my hints became strong suggestions.
Hubby offered daughter a deal, figuring we would save over $40 per month if she gave up her goats in exchange for a cell phone. She said she’d need to think about it, which she did for approximately two minutes. Finally, she asked, “How soon can we find them a home?”
With shiny purple cell phone in hand, daughter waved goodbye to the goats, and hubby set out to capture the rats. He placed traps to no avail. Finally, he and son came up with a plan. They would flush the rats out of their hole and then kill them with whatever tools were handy. My men became fierce and mighty hunters, bringing their kill to the back door so I could praise their strength and valor.
Finally, there was one left. At least I hope it was the last one. Son held the garden hose over the hole until the rat came up for air. Effectively stripping the Indy 500 of its title of the greatest spectacle in racing, that rat ran hubby and son around and around the yard. At one point they had it cornered, but it managed to escape under the fence. Hubby heaved himself over the fence, and with a fierce thud, size fourteen boots made short work of the task at hand. His back is still paying the price for that mighty jump, but it was worth it. He picked the rat up by the tail and proudly brought it to the deck, preening over his savage accomplishment. And some people believe in evolution.
A few days later mice had taken over my pantry. I think they had been there for a while, but the light needed to be replaced and I couldn’t see how bad things had gotten. With the new light burning brightly I spent the better part of the day removing and discarding food that had been soiled or partially eaten. Or, as was the case with the three pound bag of Cajun trail mix, completely devoured! An entire tube of baby formula and a couple of packets of Taco Bell hot sauce had also been scarfed down. These mice were living like kings, and apparently had stomachs of iron.
Hubby arrived home from work before I managed to get the shelves disinfected. He took one look at the disaster and made a totally rational, well thought out decision. He told son to grab a crow bar and hammer and they removed the pantry from the house.
Since I have a limited number of kitchen cabinets, this had been my only source of food storage for the past twelve years. I hated that pantry though. It was like a black hole, where things just disappeared and were never seen again. Carried off by mice I suppose.
In its place are two industrial sized, stainless steel, shelving units. Nineteen sixties’ era wallpaper shows through where the old pantry once stood, adding a special element to my already kitschy d‚cor.
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verything is stored in air tight containers, and I have not seen any traces of mice. At this moment hubby and son are entering measurements into the computer, trying to plan the best lay out for the new cabinets I’ve had my heart set on for years. Since the goats are gone, the bicycles and lawn mower are neatly stored in the barn instead of weathering the elements. All in all, I guess the rodents have done me a favor. I think I’ll send a little thank you note to the stress center.
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