Yesterday, I had the be-Jesus scared out of me by a mouse. The little wretched thing nearly gave me a heart attack. I'm at my wits end! What's worse is I cought wind from a neighbor the possible cause of the intruder.
It seems that an old spinster, who until recently lived just down the block, was as crazy as the day is long. She obviously had a misguided sense of animal adoration for mice because... she was FEEDING THEM!
I kid you not.
She had a 5 pound bag of seed in her kitchen, tossing the decrepit little creatures a handful whenever she made herself a morsel to eat. I truly cannot fathom what she was thinking staring at the bloody rodents between mouthfuls of her ill-gotten sandwich. I shudder just thinking about it.
Realize this is not a slum type area. It's actually sought-after property. Its a pretty block trimmed with huge trees and little gardens up nearly every residents pathway. The kind of neighborhood where you'll find old couples arm in arm taking ritual strolls, Where you'll see avid dog walkers with furry companions certainly known by name. Look out the window and I guarantee you'll see a jogger, or parent proudly carting baby.
It's a busy block of familiar faces.
I guess every neighborhood has a crackpot (or two, or three). Thus, we aren't without our own. I believe every person has a right to be flaky, if they so desire, aspire, dream to be or were born one. My concern is if these said individuals infringe on my territory. Especially by means of their hairy following.
So when I get the novel experience of being the first house with a pest control van parked out front, or having a cashier price check the necessary traps at the local home depot - I get my back up about it.