Mice…. and I'm not talking about these…
I'm talking these!
Mice with long tails and twitching whiskers are little monsters - though I do find them quite cute and I'm not scared of them. This winter a family have set up home in our old stone garage. Mr H and I call them the Mickey and Minnie (not very original I know) and have yet to see them, but we know they're there.
We live out in the countryside, there is farmland and woods and bracken-covered hills all around us so it's not surprising that they've found their way into the peripheries of our home. The garage, where we only happen into on occasion in the colder months, seems to have been perfect for them.
The evidence these little monsters are there…
There is a bag of old horse feed that has been munched from the bottom up, spilling the contents on to the floor. I'd imagine that Mickey and Minnie are now obese as it was high-calorie horse feed!
Mr H went to wash his car the other day only to discover his bright yellow sponge half gone and teeny tiny pieces of it spread around the base of the bucket - oh yes, they can climb.
I then went to get a vase from one of the shelves and was greeted with a few droppings - yuk!
I do have a cat, rescued like all of my animals, and she is actually a pretty good hunter (or she was in her younger days) so I could set her in the garage to solve the problem. But no, I can't, Mickey and Minnie are all fat and cozy in their yellow sponge bed with a feast fit for a king and no doubt reading from their Kindles. They can stay for now, because soon they'll be off. Once we start banging around and clearing out the garage they'll dart away into the hedgerows once more, no doubt multiplied but that's just the way it goes. I guess I'm a live-and-let-live kind of gal - as long as Mickey and Minnie stay in the garage and don't bring all their mates for a party that is, because that would be a disaster!