Lenawee Smiles: Waging war with militant mice

A friend of mine has lost his sight over a span of many years. This is a horror I cannot imagine. When I visited him some weeks ago, I happened to open one of his kitchen drawers. I looked inside and discovered clear evidence of a rodent infestation.

He was not aware of it.

I immediately began a campaign of purging his kitchen of any bags or cartons of food. On further searching I discovered mice had managed to chew through not only plastic bags but also thin plastic tubs to get to grains, flour and cereal.

For some reason, they happily chewed empty plastic bags and aluminum foil.

Their persistence and determination has been met by my own.

I am on a mission.

Every week, I visit him and spend a few hours vacuuming out cupboards and drawers.

These critters still visit empty drawers even though there has been no food in them for weeks.

Do they have squadrons that alternate weeks? I like to think I am reasonably intelligent. When I find mouse droppings in empty drawers, I begin to wonder if there is some master mouse mind at work in his basement — complete with floor plans and layouts of all the cupboards in the house. I visualize a tiny general in uniform with five stars on his quarter-inch shoulders snapping out commands.

Whoever he is, he also taunts me by sending troops to leave their evidence on the gas stove top.

No, no food is on there. Ever. But when I take damp paper towels and clean that surface, I find a lot of mouse feces. They also “gift” me with this on the countertops.

So. Between my visits, General Mouse meets with his subordinates, and they plot their activities.

I don’t like to think how many of these are living in Tom’s home or how long they’ve been there. It is not healthy to have this problem.

My battle is on two fronts: the mice and Tom. He is casual about the problem and doesn’t seem to mind the presence of the mice. “A few mice don’t really bother me.”

“They should bother you — it isn’t good to have them here. You can develop a virus from them.”

My admonitions fell on deaf ears for some time, and at one point he suggested that I was imagining the degree of the issue. Then I told him his neighbor had seen one of the befouled food drawers and how bad the problem was.

Armed with this support, he caved in.

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I found out that mice do not like the smell of peppermint. I would like to shake the hand of the person(s) who discovered this. A short spell of research led me to find a peppermint oil spray product, safe for house pets, that could be used to send these little invaders with their sharp teeth and long tails scampering away from the residence.

I bought a gallon of it and headed to Tom’s house. Just as I had suspected, the General was using the area under the sink as his assembly ground. I threw away old scrub brushes I found under there along with sponges and other items I knew Tom couldn’t see or find.

Then I vacuumed under the sink. I washed the area, let it dry and then sprayed the peppermint oil all around under the sink. I also sprayed all the drawers where those pesky mice had held field exercises.

When I return, I hope I will not find any new evidence of this mouse militia.

I don’t want to see any tiny boots or caps or a small canteen set up with a sign showing a female dancing mouse wearing false eyelashes and a sequined bra.

I don’t want to see a Jeep the size of a small spool of thread parked under the drain pipe of the sink.

There had better not be any miniature tents lined up in one of those drawers with evidence of a little campfire. I don’t want to see a rifle range. I do not want to see evidence of exercise equipment like bars or those net things for climbing.

In other words, I want to know that my investment in this peppermint oil spray was worth it. I want to feel the work that resulted in back pain paid off. I want to do a careful victory dance.

What I do not want is Tom greeting me at the door and saying, “You know, I am not sure I really do have a problem….” If he does, I might grab that spray and hose him down.

Susan Keezer lives in Adrian. Send your good news to her at [email protected].

This article originally appeared on The Daily Telegram: Suzanne Keezer: Waging war with militant mice