Mouse in the House

This story from the Seattle Times would, as a rule, come with the words "Urban Legend" stamped all over it, but times are not normal and the story is actually entirely credible.

Mice are, if not quite the root of all evil, very, very close to getting that way. For example, they torture humans with sleep deprivation, as cairn crosses nightly try to dig up the furniture and wolf hound impersonators stare benignly at proceedings, nearly killing human on-lookers with frustration when mice flushed out by the cairn, run up his nose and down his back.

Whatever line you take, mice will get to you. There's no point making friends with them. Take the story of K, HE mum of very good heart, who sat up in the middle of a dark and stormy night, riddled with a high form of compunction which compelled her to set off down the pitch-black, muddy lane that leads from her home into darkest rural England, humane mouse trap in hand, in order to release the enclosed vermin within the prescribed four hour limit. She eventually stumbled the necessary distance, ie: a mile from her house, at which point she found out that the trap was empty.

But loveless attack doesn't work either. We scatter poison about the place and leave out those snappy little traps, but this turns out to be neither here nor there. These things don't actually do anything. The cairn and the visiting spaniels eat their heads off and chase them down the loo, and still they're back.

I suspect the hamster has something to do with it - he may be the traitor in our midst. He certainly seems to be giving them food.

All in all, it comes as no surprise to hear news of suicide-arsonist mice.