ALEXANDRA SHULMAN'S NOTEBOOK: Coco's lost her touch - now mice are at play
ALEXANDRA SHULMAN'S NOTEBOOK: Coco's lost her touch - now mice are at play
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We have a mouse in residence – or to be accurate, we’re not sure if it’s a mouse singular or a happy family of mice. None of us has seen more than one at a time scurry across the kitchen floor then slither behind the central island or cunningly disappear somewhere about the house, but the evidence is increasing that we could be talking about a community.
Years ago, our cat Coco was a determined assassin, enjoying nothing so much as a night in the killing fields, leaving the evidence of her prey – entrails exposed attractively on our expensive carpets or outside the bedroom door. But now, aged 17, she doesn’t have the appetite for the chase, and while she frequently lies outside the cupboards where we think the mice lurk, she has lost her killer instinct.
Although I have twice been alerted by the most bloodcurdling shrieks and flung myself into the room, only to find Coco gently holding a mouse in her mouth and then releasing it unharmed. (The shrieks are from the mouse.). I have been pretty sanguine about the occasional mouse for some months, but taking this relaxed attitude has clearly encouraged them to take more liberties. So now they (or it) have begun to brave the higher rungs of the food cupboard.
Flaked almonds seem to be the food of choice. Even though we have moved tins to the bottom shelf as a barricade, this doesn’t seem effective. Nor has my attempt to block possible entry areas with wire wool. Clearly we have to rid ourselves of the mouse/mice, but the thought of poison and traps is too horrible. The search is on for a kindly terminator.