20160509

Day 735

We've been catching mice in the back garden. Nasty little pests have been chewing through the walls and wires and just about everything they can but shouldn't eat for no apparent reason. Honestly I'm not sure how they're even alive from the amount of brick they've managed to work their way past yet somehow they are and it's an absolute nightmare.

The largest hole they've chewed, the original one we keep sealing up with foam and dusting with rat poison , seems to be their main obsession. I've lost count of the number of times I've seen their fat little backsides wiggling through a gap that they've just finished making. Their faces are always covered in blood and dust, teeth broken and embedded in the foam.

We'd feel guilty but they just keep coming back until their faces are practically nothing but bloodied mush. At this point it's easier to just dispose of their corpses at the other end with a small "humane" mouse trap (a glass box with one-way hinges that lures them in with peanut butter and keeps them there).

After a further month if this we stopped getting any mice at all and gradually forgot about it until we found the old glass trap again. It was the smell that set us off, made worse by finding it stuffed to bursting with mice that were practically mummified. Their dry, shrivelled and crumbling little bodies were wedged in there so tightly we had to break the glass to get them out and toss them into a rubbish sack.

That's when we saw it written on the metal backing to the trap. Someone had scratched the "Three Blind Mice" rhyme onto the steel in tiny, precise handwriting. Over and over and over and over again. Towards the end they had just written "see how they run". We threw that away as quickly as we could.

We didn't get any more live mice after that but the trap kept finding its way back into the house, full of mouse bones.

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