When we were camped by the Mississippi River, we picked up a stowaway, a little brown mouse. Mary Ann noticed him first, and I messed with the vents, attempting to locate the way he'd gotten in. A good hider, there were stretches with no sightings, so I was hopeful he was gone when we left. I saw him make a dash for the under-dash area as we drove to Oquawka .(I like that little town. It'd make a good location for a story.)
But once we were home, and I set up in the RV as my office, I started seeing him again. Not good.
Now, I have no ill will toward mice. They're cute. My daughter even had a pet rat for a while. But mice are destructive. It's their nature. It's hard enough keeping this RV in good shape without sharp little teeth gnawing on wires or tubes.
So, the mouse had to go. I made noises. That did little good, but I had to give him the choice.
I bought mousetraps. Two different kinds. He seems to ignore them. I changed the bait. Still no action. Poisons work, I know, but I do not want a dead mouse rotting away in an inaccessible spot under the dash.
I've started keeping my air-pistol at hand, just in case he presents himself.
But for over a day now, there's been no sign of him. Has he left? Is he just reading the ill feelings in the air and hiding?
We'll have to see. For now, the traps stay at ready.
Change of Schedule - Henry’s Stories has been on-line and regularly updated for almost two years now, with a mix of new and old stories -- some short and others novel length. ...
4 years ago