I’ve had enough.
I’m calling it.
That’s right. I hold victory in my fist. I’ve succeeded where so many have failed. And succeeded. I’m not the only one to go to war, but if you remember this post, you’ll understand what I’m talking about.
Yeah, it isn’t that great of a victory, but right now I’m going to take what I can get. Others have successfully defended home and hearth from those little bastards, and now I can officially join their ranks. Mind, I’m still leaving the traps up and out (Nynaeve learned the hard way to avoid them) and I’m still arguing with my wife to make sure she’s closing the door when she goes out, regardless if she’ll be right back in or if she’s watching the dog. Don’t make no difference to me. But it’s been several weeks, almost closer to a month—I think—since I’ve seen any sign of them. No droppings, no food with gnaw marks in it, no dead mice caught on traps.
So, as I’ve said, I’m calling it. Victory is mine and none shall convince me otherwise. Until the next little bugger gets in. Then it will start all over. Best not to sit on my laurels though. Keep up the vigilance and strike as soon as I have proof.
Until then, I’d like to thank my dog (Nynaeve) for her mouse chasing skills and warning me that they were there in the beginning. Thank you as well to my wife who helped me repair the house and funnel the mice to my killing fields. And finally absolutely NO THANKS to my cat, who just sat upstairs on my bed criticizing our activities. If you can do better, come down here and do it yourself.
Stupid Cat is Stupid.