(Or in my case, a Ricola cough drop)
4/19/24
The Discovery
Turns out, a damp back seat and a couple waterlogged books are the least of your worries when you leave a car window open on a rainy night out here.
It wasn’t until the day after I realized my rainy mistake that I found one of my Ricola cough drops, savagely ripped open and gnawed on, just beneath my passengers seat.
Perplexed, I looked a little closer, and to my horror, found small black grains, littered on my car floor.
Rat shit.
My stomach dropped at the realization.
My attention quickly shifted to the bag of snacks that I keep handy in my back seat (I spend a lot of time in my car y’all, of course I keep a bag of snacks on hand).
I peered in, and cautiously, sifted through the bag’s contents, half expecting to find him there, feasting on the goods.
If this little guy was enjoying himself on a cough lozenge, then he’d certainly be ecstatic to find my bag of trail mix, granola bars, and other assorted treats.
To my surprise, the good stuff remained untouched. However, the Tootsie Pop, and roll of Necco candy at the bottom of the bag, much like the Ricola, had been torn into, with evidence of little nibbles taken out of them.
Either this guy had a sweet tooth, or he targeted these items because they’re wrapped in paper, and therefore much easier to rip into that the plastic wrapped granola bars.
A thorough search of my car later, and no mouse was found, only more tiny grains of poop, randomly dispersed throughout my car floor.
Rodent Roadtrip
Feeling disgusted, nervous, and intruded upon by this creature, I did the only thing I could do, which was go about my day.
You see, the morning I discovered that I wasn’t alone in my car, was the morning that I had planned to set off on a trip across the state, to spend the weekend at the coast with my family.
“You picked the wrong day to get in this car buddy” I proclaimed to the mouse, as I set the car in drive and took off.
It wasn’t until an hour or so into my drive, once I’d half-forgotten about the mouse, that I could relax into my seat, actually sitting back in my chair.
I feared that he would jump out at any second, startling me as I drove down the highway.
My plan, if he chose to do so, was to grab him with my bare hand, and chuck him out the window.
That is, until I decided that I would at least do him the courtesy of pulling over first, releasing him out into the world, instead of splattering him, at 60mph, on the highway.
My moment never came though, for the mouse was more afraid of me than I was of it. Or at least that’s what everyone kept telling me.
I couldn’t be certain that he was still in the car with me.
For all I knew, he could have snuck in, ate what he wanted, shit where he pleased, and then made his way back out, all in the same night.
I liked to think that was the case. But after stopping by my cousin’s place, halfway to my destination, that possibility was squashed.
“Oh yeah, it’s definitely still in here” My cousin reported, after opening the trunk to my car and claiming to hear the distinctive squeak of a mouse.
Not having the time to empty my car and conduct a more thorough search, I decided that the mouse was simply going to have to stay put, and enjoy the ride until we reached our final destination (and the mouse’s new home) a few more hours away.
Deep Clean, Deep Clean, Deep Clean
Once I arrived at the coast, and had a moment to clean out my car, I got to work.
I removed everything from my car (the bag of treats being the first to go), and went to town vacuuming out all of the mouse turds, food crumbs, and any other miscellaneous dirt and debris.
After consulting with friends and family on wtf to do to get rid of this mouse, and after declining Jenn’s advice to leave all of my car doors open for a night (seeing as I was parked in an apartment complex), I decided that the best way for him to get out, was the same way he got in.
So that night, car empty and clean, I left my car window cracked open and prayed that he would find his way out.
I ignored the very real possibility that leaving my window open might invite others to join him. But with no food for him to eat, and no rain for him to seek shelter from, I thought he’d be happy to leave.
To begin his new life as a beach rat.
And so that was that. Unless I completely disassembled my car, down to the very core of it, this was going to be the best that I could do for now.
For days, I saw no sign of him. Heard no squeak. Found no droppings.
I’d done it.
I’d successfully evicted my unwelcome guest.
My lesson was learned though.
I’d always considered myself a clean, hygienic person. I kept my car tidy, my trash contained, and any spills or messes immediately cleaned up.
But now I was on a new level of clean, allowing no snacks except what I would eat that day. And even then, keep my in-car-eating to a minimum. And food trash immediately disposed of.
Only a few days after returning home, certain that I’d displaced this mountain mouse to the beach, did I find a stray dropping.
I stared at it, trying to convince myself that I’d simply missed it when I so thoroughly vacuumed my car.
But there was no way.
It was in such an obvious place, I knew I wouldn’t have missed it. It was only one dropping though. And there had been no other signs. If he was still in my car, I figured that without a source of food, he wouldn’t be there for long.
The Mouse Returns
I must have been off my game, because one night I left a bag of trash in my car.
Dirty, stinky, delicious trash, right in my car.
When I entered my car the next morning, I was stupidly surprised to find the bag torn into, shreds of plastic and apple littering my floor.
Now outraged by this violation of my space, I knew what I needed to do. It was time to set a trap. Unwilling to handle a mouse corpse, I decided to take the high road, and I got myself a humane mouse trap. I picked up a metal contraption, just larger than a VHS tape, with two trap doors and a clear top so I could see if I got him.
Recognizing his interest in apples, I bit a chunk off an apple and dropped it in the trap. I left it there for two days, even adding an empty, aromatic cat food can, to sweeten the deal.
Nothing.
“Put a little peanut butter on some rat poison” Jenn’s words rang in my head.
While I still wasn’t quite ready for the rat poison, I removed the apple chunk and added the peanut butter.
Still nothing. So the next day I added a little bit of tuna.
And you guessed it… still nothing.
So, that’s where we are today. I’ve washed out the peanut butter from the trap, and am currently considering what I could put in there. Something that will be too delicious for the mouse to pass up.
I told Jenn that if I could just potty train the little bugger, and get him on a regimented feeding schedule, that he could stay.
She assured me that domesticating this feral mouse was not an option.
Now that the humane trap is proving to be ineffective, I’m considering taking the lethal route.
“I’d just hate for him to eat the poison, then retreat to the hole he’s hiding in, and die there” I’d told her.
“Well the good news is, if that does happen, he won’t stink for long. Since he’s so little.” She said, at what I think was an attempt at reassurance.
I thought I knew what she meant… but had to clarify. “You mean, because he’s so little, he’ll decompose fast?”
She confirmed.
I wasn’t very comforted by the thought of a mouse corpse decomposing in the bowels of my vehicle. But maybe it would send a message. Perhaps having a rat corpse in my car would discourage other mousy friends from taking up residency in there.
While I’m less than pleased about having a mouse in my car, so long as he stays tf away from me, I’ll be patient.
I’ll try my hand at a couple more humane methods of mouse removal, but if that shows no success, then I’m putting my foot down, and I’m killing the bastard. One way or another.