Prior to our moving in, our country estate had sat empty for about seven years. While it was still in livable condition, there were a few issues we had to deal with. The first, and most important in my opinion was getting rid of the unwanted house guest who had made our home theirs during the inhabited years. I'm talking about the little, furry, scurrying kind of mice.
Now I didn't mind that mice had congregated in our home while it sat empty, I did mind that they didn't just pack their bags and depart once we moved in. I felt we had enough mouths to feed without having to share our larder with old yukky, furry critters. So begone with you for goodness sake.
We worked very hard to get rid of these nasty creatures but there were more of them than there was of us - and they were winning. So we got cats. Lots of cats. I am allergic to cats. My eyes swelled shut. I sneezed. I coughed. I cried. I got rid of the cats. The mice stayed.
We tried poison. That worked - to the point that they slowed down, very slooooowwww. They no longer scurried, they shuffled, stopped, and fell over dead at our feet. No a good impression if we had company.
Next we tried traps, the snap kind. I quickly found out I was not the trap emptying kind of country woman, and since hubby was away from home so much during the day, guess who had to empty the traps. It wasn't going to be me.
Finally, one cold winter's morning, Elizabeth, our youngest, came upon the perfect solution. Walking into the bathroom I found her, sitting on her throne, reading a book, and occasionally looking up long enough to announce in her firmest kindergarten voice, MEOW, MEOW, MEOW. And that, folks, is how we got rid of our mice problem.