Of Mice and Men.. and hamsters...

Happy hamster days... The relentless whirring on a wheel in the bedroom as my young daughter blissfully slept, oblivious. Golden Syrian hamsters who could adapt to small fumbling hands and who could generally be trusted not to remove a large chunk of flesh of an unattended child.
Then there were the pesky Chinese ones who all but nibbled their way out of the cardboard box in the back seat of the car, then made their great bid for freedom in the living room, upon arrival.
I still have a photograph of three prostate figures, Dearest and the two children, stretched across the living room floor, peering under the chaise longue, armed with spatulas, flour sifters, and a colander: the whole kitchen artillery of hamster-catching equipment. The picture is blurry because I could hardly keep the camera straight; I was heaving with silent mirth.
This evening that image came back to me as my son described the mouse infestation in his flat. My recent antics with ants paled into insignificants (sorry).
I know that he and his partner have tried the humane route. They laid a trap, thinking they had caught one, but not wishing to look it in the eye, carried it gingerly all the way to Hampstead Heath to release it, only to find the box empty when they got there. Such a gentle approach has meant that the word has got round in the mice community and they have invited their friends.
Now the mission is to rid them of Mickie and pals.
Having studied form, I would suggest a whole set of Tupperware is called for and an ultrasonic pest repeller.
Thank goodness they both have birthdays in June....

petsplanetinfo.blogspot.com

Put one in a cage while the other puts one in a rage.