Rodents generally don’t make me squeamish. At my mom’s old
farmhouse, they are literally part of the woodwork. When they skitter in the
wall behind my bed at night, I smack the wall as they pass by.
It startles them enough to go somewhere else.
But in the past few weeks I not only trapped more than 12 of
the buggers, but spotted one in the bathroom and the cat’s room. Tilly, the
former feral cat, just glared at me and as if to say, “For god’s sake don’t you
see that thing? Take care of it!”
She had a point. It was time to call out the big guns. It as actually well past the time.
I typed “Rodent Eradication” into Angie’s List. There weren't many choices. I didn't consider anyone using poison . Not only did I not
want mice climbing in the walls to die, but more importantly, poison doesn’t
just kill the mouse; it drives them outside where they can be eaten by birds
and other creatures. Including my dogs.
Then it kills them too.
There were only a few companies left, but Rodents Stop! had great
reviews, and an ridiculous lifetime guarantee. Try and find that in New England! Just another
reason to live in Los Angeles!
A few days later a man wearing a Rodents Stop t-shirt and
carrying a ladder and a big flashlight was at my door. He grimaced a lot while
he looked under the house, in the attic and behind my kitchen appliances. He
shook his head sadly, muttering, “They are nesting here. And there. And there. Oh, man. You have
a big problem.”
He informed me that my home was infested. The mice had
turned my attic into a rodent Four Seasons. They shredded the insulation for
their beds and were enjoying the good life. There was probably a little pool and Jacuzzi up there. And, by the way, there was “a LOT
of daytime activity.”
Fan-fucking-tastic.
The idea made me shudder. I could feel mice surrounding me.
We agreed that Rodents Stop! would come two days later. They would remove
the pest-filled insulation and vacuum the attic and crawlspaces. Then they’d
replace the insulation and mouse-proof the house.
It would only cost the
equivalent of a great used car.
I practically threw the deposit at them. I’d have done almost
anything to get the damn things gone and my house back.
I have floaters in one eye, but I am convinced what I saw in
the kitchen that night was mice. Even though all three Great Danes snore and
fart while they sleep, I know I heard squealing and little mouse feet stomping around
all night. Every time a dog tail touched me, I was sure it was a mouse.
I didn’t get much sleep.
Two mornings later, at precisely 7:15 am, two trucks filled with
equipment and nine men pulled up. The men yanked on gas masks and went to work.
By 4:30 that afternoon, there was shiny new insulation,
fresh cement patches in footings and new screens to the crawl space. The attic
was filled with traps to catch any mice that initially got away.
Part of the
deal was that Rodents Stop would come by a few times a week to check and empty the traps.
I sighed with relief as I handed the supervisor the final
check.
I'm not stupid, knew there would be a few outlier mice that escaped the
vacuums and the traps. Still, I about threw up that night when I opened my
closet door and saw one looking at me.
I’m just surprised the police didn’t show up; I screamed
that loudly. “God damn, MOUSE!” The dogs blinked at each other, they’d
seen this show before and were unimpressed.
It’s been about a week, and I haven’t seen another.
Mouse apocalypse: Mission accomplished.
