October 6, 2010


I'm Gonna Live Forever...

So, according to this piece, researchers have discovered a liquid that extends life in mice.

May I request that they take their invention and hurl it down the toilet?

The mice in my house are living just long enough, thankyouverymuch. May I be so bold as to suggest they are actually living too long? Because anything that allows them to live long enough to crawl from their mother's womb, navigate my garage, scamper up the three concrete steps to my obviously-not-impermeable-door is too long.

I have a trap in my bread cupboard. I am aware that normal people have a bread box, or bin. But we are not normal people. We must have on hand, at all time, a loaf of rye, a loaf of bazillion grain bread, a loaf of whole wheat, two bags of bagels, a package of flax seed wraps (never know when someone is gonna want to stuff the leftovers into a wrap, and then stuff it in their mouth), hotdog buns, hamburger buns, and sometimes a loaf of Italian bread in case Mom makes garlic bread like she keeps promising but never delivering.

The mice love this cupboard. I stopped buying rye with caraway seeds. And the wraps with flax seed. Because. Ari spilled the pepper grinder yesterday, and I watched small black pellets spew on the counter and wanted to weep. I now must discern between caraway seeds, flax seed, peppercorns and mouse crap. My life is tough enough.

I turfed a fat little sucker two weeks ago. Somehow, they send out a signal, and the others stay away just long enough for me to get my guard down. I actually threw the little bugger out front in a bag as a kind of warning sign to his brethren; a mouse version of a head on a pole.

Maybe I'll get those live traps and collect a bunch, and mail them to the researchers.

Collect.

8 Comments:

Blogger Chris Brown (not the felon) said...

Sounds tough. I would suggest putting a pool in your back yard. They seem to get pretty bent out of shape about skinny dipping. Every other day we have one smart enough to take the plunge and too stupid to get out.

The neighbourhood cats have set up "Camp Munga Munga" in our back yard. Bonfires at night, and fishing gear. All from LL Bean. We live in Oakville, remember.

October 06, 2010 5:04 PM  
Blogger OmemeeOzzie said...

Good to know that your cats are performing admirably!

And the bread cupboard? Man. I've died and gone to yeast heaven. It's a Brit-thing, I'm told. That and potatos...

October 06, 2010 5:39 PM  
Blogger Chris Brown (not the felon) said...

Omemee... isn't that potahtos?

October 06, 2010 7:39 PM  
Anonymous jmd said...

I guess you don't want to hear the story of how I grew up on a farm, where mice often got caught up in the baler and packaged into the bales. I would rescue them, keep them in little boxes, feed them and name them and pet them. Don't wanna hear it, huh?

P.S. They always croaked, anyway.

October 07, 2010 9:26 AM  
Anonymous Billy Canfield said...

JMD -

Um...I think you're confusing yourself with Lenny from Of Mice And Men.

October 07, 2010 11:50 AM  
Anonymous jmd said...

Billy, that is quite possible.

October 07, 2010 12:05 PM  
Blogger OmemeeOzzie said...

Didn't he call everything, "George"? Or was that the Bugs Bunny version?

October 07, 2010 5:08 PM  
Blogger Lucywestie said...

"Im going to love him, and hug him and make him all my very own, and I shall call him George"

Definitely the Bugs Bunny version.
We lived in a rental house when we first came to Canada and our first Fall in the house we managed to catch 28 mice. We caught one in the garage with a trap and it looked like a scene from CSI. There was a pool of blood and this mouse laying on its back with its feet stiff in the air. I should have drawn a chalk outline around the body and left it there for the next tenants to wonder about.

October 08, 2010 7:46 PM  

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