In the last sixteen months that we've lived in this townhouse, we've had a total of three mice invade our kitchen.
The first mouse came in the middle of last March, discovered at 3 am by Chris, and took almost a week to trap and kill.
The second mouse came at the end of last October, discovered by me (I shrieked and shrieked--I do not do mice in my house). Chris hunted it with a tennis racket and a disposable tupperware, and subsequently, it was quietly executed. We found out that the previous owner had left a 2" gap between the floor and the wallboard behind the stove; we filled it in with foaming caulk hardening stuff.
After the second mouse, we decided to get Zoe. And for months and months, everything was fine. Zoe was occasionally fascinated by the broiler on our stove (where mouse #2 had come from), but no rodents dared tread our hallowed kitchen tile.
But this evening, at around 2:45 am, I was trying to fall asleep and was unable to do so because somebody was banging around very loudly in the shared backyard of our townhouse block. I sent Chris downstairs to make sure no one was trying to break into the house, and he came back upstairs, reporting that all was normal. Except for one thing: Zoe was intently stalking the fridge. We thought it was odd, since she's never done that, but kittens will be kittens.
Flash-forward an hour, and I still can't sleep. I go downstairs to get a snack, as I'm hungry and ice cream sounds good. Zoe is still in front of the fridge, her entire body tense, as if she's just waiting to pounce. I called upstairs, informing Chris that really, she was acting very strangely. Chris yelled at me to get my food and go to bed (he was asleep, after all). But I am a cautious soul, and so I stood a good distance away from the kitchen, at the foot of the stairs and watched Zoe. Then, I heard a noise, a very little noise, but Zoe's focus shifted immediately to the space between the fridge and the cabinet that houses our dishwasher.
And that was enough for me. I knew there had to be something there.
Back upstairs I went, and convinced Chris that it was his manly duty to go downstairs and help the cat hunt. Chris went downstairs, and after some banging with the trusty tennis racket, lo and behold... he found that there was indeed a mouse. Except that Chris and Zoe didn't have very coordinated battle tactics, and by the time Chris had flushed the mouse out from behind the fridge, Zoe had wandered off to the other room. And the mouse had somehow managed to squeeze behind the cabinet holding the dishwasher.
It is still there.
I am greatly unhappy about this.
Chris is still trying to figure out how to catch it, but Zoe doesn't seem to realize that the mouse has now gone behind the dishwasher. So being a kitten, with the attention span of a kitten, she's gone off to play with her toys. Chris gets her to come over and help, occasionally, but said mouse is still residing behind the dishwasher (presumably).
And as for me? I'm living upstairs from now on--I don't do mice, and I want this one dead.