In March I wrote about the mouse in my walls. Zombie Mouse is back, skitterscritching through my walls and occasionally headbutting the back of my medicine cabinet. And my cat? My worthless cat just lies there and if Zombie Mouse gets super noisy Westley will perk his ears up. The other night he even went as far as to sit up. Which is to say that while I lie there trapped in my own bed while Zombie Mouse makes himself at home in the walls of my home my cat, a cat who for five years of his life lived outside and probably caught a few mice of his own, is of exactly zero help.
I’ve found myself with a bit of a problem. Because there are only so many sleepless nights that you can spend lying in bed waiting for the mouse in your walls to hulk out and smash through and eat you before it starts to be an issue. So I thought about opening my vents and shoving Westley in hoping that his inner feral cat would kick in and he’d have himself a tasty little snack. But the more likely outcome is that he’d run the opposite way and end scaring the beejesus out of some unsuspecting neighbor of mine when he lets out a plaintive, “MORW!” I’m also not keen on the idea of killing Zombie Mouse. Which rules out traps that would break his fury little neck. Mice are like tiny little cats. I can’t kill him. Even if I do believe with all of my being that he will eventually gnaw through my walls only to devour my body in what could only be described as the biggest, longest and most decadent feast a mouse would ever have. I could do a no-kill trap, but then I’m left with a live Zombie Mouse and having to take said live mouse into my possession and into my car and letting him go at Holiday Park. But what if by letting him go so far from home I separate him from his family? He may be capable of growing exponentially in size (under the right conditions, obviously) but he’s no Mrs. Brisby and hell, even if he were what are the chances that there’s a Nicodemus of his own just waiting to help guide him back to his family and even then the likelihood that this modern day Nicodemus has The Stone? Slim to none.
Plus, if all that were to happen I’m back where I started with a reunited mouse in my walls.
Do you see my dilemma, Internets? Do I wait it out, picturing my untimely demise, do I humanely capture and then free the mouse, but risk separating a family.
Or do I ditch both those ideas and say goodbye to Mr. Brown Eye?