As if, AS IF, I don’t already have a full house with Checkers the RV Copilot, the varmint squirrel, Bugzilla the well-groomed Giant Cockroach, and Sparky the Bird, now there’s a mouse in the house, my RV.
I have a cat. I shouldn’t have a mouse.
Let’s review: My cat/RV copilot can’t read maps, and doesn’t deter rodents. This is just wrong.
In her defense, at the ripe old age of 18 she probably can’t hear the mouse chewing up the inside of my kitchen drawers.
How do I know there’s a mouse?
The other morning I opened the silverware drawer to see one of those crushed red pepper packets you get when you order pizza broken open, contents spilling out. Upon closer inspection, I noticed the packet wasn’t broken, but chewed open. Finely shredded bits of paper and of the drawer lining lay in a small pile.
- Poos in the silverware drawer.
- Poos in the utensil drawer below.
- Poos in the dishtowel drawer below that.
I bleached the drawers and contents, and washed the dish towels so I don’t get Hantavirus. You know, that life-threatening disease spread by mice.
From the US Library of medicine: But, wait! There’s more…