Several years back my wife and I began a tradition we look forward to as much as any in our family. We are blessed with eight grandchildren who are our pride and joy, and we love spending as much time with each of them as possible. I don’t remember which one of us came up with the idea, but we decided it would be fun to take them on a trip of their choice as a celebration of their high school graduation. We are not wealthy people, so there were some limitations, but basically we do whatever possible to make their trip a reality. For example, our oldest grandson dreamed of visiting Wrigley Field in Chicago to watch the Cubs play, so for his trip we took him to Chicago to see the Cubs play. He had a blast watching the games, and we had a blast watching him. Two years later his sister graduated, and she asked to go to Disney World, which is how this story began.
We left for Disney World the day after Christmas, which I learned is not the idea time of year to go to Disney World unless you enjoy hobnobbing elbow to elbow with folks. Nevertheless, we had a terrific time. The only downside of the trip materialized on the drive to Orlando. During the drive we discovered a stowaway in the truck. I hate, despise, and loathe critters such as mice, rats, and snakes, but at about the halfway point of the trip, my wife opened the glovebox where we keep the truck paperwork, a few dollar bills for tolls, and a small stack of napkins left over from burger joints to find the napkins shredded. From the evidence, I knew we had a four-legged critter, so at the next rest stop we pulled over and cleaned the glovebox as best we could. I didn’t make too much of a fuss over the situation since we were on our way to see the only mouse I can stomach. I was not about to let one of Mickey’s nasty cousins ruin our day, but thank the good Lord, my wife did not find a snake, or the truck and the trip would have been abandoned on the side of the Interstate that day.
The next morning, I went out to the truck with the intention of additional cleaning. When I opened the glovebox, I was met eyeball to eyeball with our stowaway eating a Bic pen like a drumstick. He winked at me and scampered through a hole leading into the dash. Visions of chewed wiring flashed in my head. However, it was Mickey time, and there was little I could do at the moment, so he was forgotten until we returned home. The day we returned from the trip I set a cheese baited mousetrap in the glovebox with a spring bar the equivalent of a guillotine for furry critters. Problem solved – right? Nope, the war was just beginning. The next morning the cheese was gone, and a Hallmark thank you note signed by the mouse was pinned under the sprung spring bar. I had been outsmarted, but not defeated, so I reset the trap.
The following morning the trap was untouched as it was the morning after that, and the morning after that. As each day passed, I envisioned the mouse growing so engorged on cheese he became permanently trapped inside the dash. What could I do? I searched YouTube, and there were plenty of mouse infested truck videos, but no one was any smarter as to how to deal with the problem than I was. I called the Ford dealership for advice but had to hang up when the laughing became unbearable. I racked my brain for solutions, and then I remembered the greatest of the rat killers, Shug. Shug was the custodian when I was a high school principal, and when it came to ridding the school of varmints such as mice, he was better than ten cats. The only tool he used was sticky pads. He said a mouse might trip a mousetrap and get away, but there was no getting away from a sticky pad. Sticky pads were the answer, so I placed two pads in the glovebox knowing the end of the vile culprit was at hand.
The next morning nothing, nor was there a mouse stuck to a pad the following morning, or the morning after that. Visions of my truck going up in flames as a chewed wire sparked, or horror of horrors – the smell of rotting flesh engulfed it since it was becoming a growing possibility the varmint was already dead. Maybe, that first sprung mousetrap had caught enough of him and left him to crawl off into the dash to die. That thought dropped me to my knees. I was defeated. Dead or alive the mouse had won. I called the Ford dealership once again, and once the laughing subsided, I scheduled a time to bring my truck in for de-mousing. The estimated cost dropped me to my knees a second time – $1,300 to remove the dash not counting any needed repairs. My dreams of future trips with my grandchildren or a much-needed camping trip out west lay crippled by a dastardly cousin to Mickey Mouse. At that moment Mickey and all his relatives went to the top of my Poop List.
The day before the scheduled extraction, I was moping around the house thinking about the money and the humiliation of being outsmarted by a mouse when I decided to rearrange some tools under the back seat of the truck simply to get my mind off the fur ball. What I found was one of the most beautiful sights I have ever seen. Fresh mouse poop covered a small tarp I carry under the seat! Praise the good Lord! The mouse was not dead! He had relocated after his near mishap with the mousetrap, so hurriedly, with renewed faith in Shug and his sticky pads, I placed pads with a piece of cheese in the middle under the seats and on the floorboard. That night I slept very little as images of rabid giant rats devouring my truck kept me tossing and turning throughout the night.
When morning finally crawled to life, the genius of Shug rang out through the scream of my wife! The night before I had unwisely parked my truck behind her van, which blocked her from leaving early on one of her many weekly excursions to Walmart. As a result, she had to move the truck, but when she stepped into the truck, she came close to stepping on the mouse permanently glued to a sticky pad. She was still shaking when I got to her, and my quick transition of concern for her to jubilant celebration over the mouse did not sit well, but it was what it was – VICTORY! The girl at the Ford dealership was also not amused by my laughing and dead mouse jokes as I canceled the scheduled trip to the dealership.
Side Note: Although my research on how to rid your vehicle of mice was fruitless, I did discover that peppermint oil and clothes drier sheets/squares placed in your truck, wheel wells, and under the hood help repel mice. I can’t say for sure it works, but anyone riding in my truck will notice the distinctive aroma of peppermint.
By the way, Mickey is no longer on my Poop List!
©Jack Linton, January 24, 2022
I Don't Mean to Offend, but . . . . 