I hate mice!

We live in an eighty-some-year-old house in the country. This means that we are sometimes bothered by mice. The thing is, we'll go as long as two years without ever seeing a sign of the little vermin; then all of a sudden, they're all over my home-sweet-home.

During such an invasion, I feel I must wash every pan I use for cooking and keep all counters sponged often. Thank God they've never discovered the upper cabinets where plates, cups and glasses are kept. I'd never get much else done except wash and re-wash dishes.

We've had one of those six-month respites from rodents, until the cold snap last week. Upon opening one of the lower cabinets, I noticed what could only be mouse-poop, and plenty of it; it wasn't there a week ago. The same day, Cliff saw not one, but TWO of the despised critters scurry under the couch.

I had used all my mouse-poison back in the cabin, where the mice always seem to be winning the war... but as Cliff says, the woods is their home, and they were there first.

I was fortunate to find two mouse-traps, and baited them with peanut butter. Trouble is, mousetraps these days aren't made as well as they used to be, and often the peanut butter gets licked off again and again, with nary a mouse losing her life.

We had to do our weekly shopping, so I picked up a box of d-Con and placed it at strategic locations (where Sadie, my dog, couldn't get to it).

I checked my main mousetrap and found all traces of peanut butter gone, but decided to re-set it anyhow.

And, believe it or not, I caught a mouse! And then another, and another. All within a space of eight hours.

I see they have been partaking of my poison, too.

I'm feeling much better now.