The best laid plans of mice and men

We still have a mouse. Squeak is still a part of our household. An unwelcome member. I'm finding "evidence" in some not so nice places... like on the stove!!!???!!! He also chewed on my favourite oven mitts. The ones I hunted for all over New Brunswick. My lobster claw oven mitts. That bastard! It is so onth!

We were nice. feeding him peanut butter and the occasional cracker until we could actually do something about him. So we got a humane trap. A mouse house as it were. Moved the daily offering inside. And then we left. For a week. Thinking we'd come home to a mouse. In the mouse house. But no! Little bugger avoided the house. And we thought he was gone.

Then the other night we heard something. Something that went "russle" in the night. We had left the bag from our sushi take away on the floor and he had found it. Brian went in and he ran back behind the tri-cupboard. I found a chopstick in teh bathroom the next morning. Seriously. In the bathroom!

That was the last straw, or stick in the case, that broke the proverbial camel's back. We bought real traps last night. We have one by the tri-cupboard and one in an old cereal box (with crumbs in it) in hopes to trick the little bugger. This is war, Mouse. If this fails... any one have a good mousing cat they can lend us?