Feline Fury

The other day, while Daniel and I were about to walk out onto the deck, Mugsy went a little crazy, whining and scratching at the door jam. Daniel said, “There must be a mouse or rat in the wall.”

My stomach turned, not because I was afraid of rodents but because the idea of one being in the wall was upsetting. Daniel set traps in the pantry; the following day, it was trapped, snapped, and dead. Our gourmet mouse went for the brie cheese, and it paid the price. So far, it seems one and done—no traces of more invaders.

I have dealt with rodents both here and in Los Angeles. I don’t like them, but I don’t panic or run screaming to stand on a chair. When my first husband and I separated, I went to our house to pick out the pots and pans to take to my new apartment. There was one pot I wanted, and when I reached to get it off the shelf, a dead mouse was staring up at me. I took the pot and left the mouse on the shelf. Even trade? I think so.

In my next house, I spotted a roof rat running through the entertainment center. My two dogs sat on the couch, oblivious, as I froze for a few minutes. I got a grip and ran to the store and bought traps. I also had to buy a baby gate to keep the dogs from getting into the peanut butter-filled glue traps. After two weeks of watching the rat torment me, the dogs being no help, I called an exterminator who guaranteed success.

First, he searched the house for any potential opening that allowed the animal to enter. He found plenty of points of entry that vermin could breach. He repaired and rescreened vents, filled holes, and set better traps. Thankfully, after two days, there was one dead rat, which I put into the trash. The exterminator dug it out to examine it.

After he determined it was a female rat, his crew came every other day for two weeks to ensure she didn’t leave a family under the house. Two weeks and $1,000 later, I was rat-free.

After tomato season in my first Waitsburg winter, I was advised to keep any green tomatoes in the pantry to let them ripen. I was ecstatic; I was eating my home-grown tomatoes into November. As colder weather struck, a mouse invaded the pantry, looking for food and warmth. More traps, more dead mice.

Thinking back on my interactions with rodents in Waitsburg, I am disappointed with the cadre of cats in our neighborhood. And there are plenty of them, from tabbies, calicos, cute grey kittens, and big fluffy adults. Most, if not all, have curled up on my front porch to stay warm and dry, sunbathed on my car, and used our lawn and planters as their litter boxes. A few have hidden in sheltered areas in our backyard, and one recently was chased out from under the new tarp-covered table on the pergola. Go Mugsy.

My new mantra to the feline community that had previously been so welcomed in my yard, front porch, and garden, no more. There is no free ride. Catch the mice or find another warm place to nap. We are no longer benevolent hosts. Mugsy is fast; you will be chased into the cold if you don’t do your job.