One of the only things I've dreaded about owning horses is mice. With a barn full of hay, straw and/or grain in the middle of field, having mice is a forgone conclusion. There's simply no escaping it.
A barn cat or two would be a good idea if you weren't married to a man who despises cats with every fiber of his body. Sorry cat lovers...he's otherwise a nice guy, I swear. He just cannot even stand the idea of a cat living in our barn. I'm still working on that with him though.
I also know that many people are appalled at the idea of a cat having to live 100% outside. I do understand that position. I'm not 100% happy with it myself. But I also cannot live with having to fear each and every trip to the barn because a mouse or twelve might scamper across my feet as I try to get the horses their grain or hay or their grooming box.
Scamper...seems so cute. Well, a scampering mouse to ME is NOT cute. It is HORRIFYING. It's breathe and heart stopping. I H.A.T.E. mice. Seeing them makes me have tachycardia. I scream. I hyperventilate. I shake for a long time afterwards. Remind me to tell you about the time I saw one outside my work cubicle. My coworkers still talk about it.
This morning I groom Izzy and then take photos of Izzy and Baby for the registration paperwork I need to send in for each of them. After that, I ran the three of them around the mini-pasture. Otherwise, they just casually walk around and they need exercise. Then I decided I should spend time cleaning out the tack room.
I was just about done. I had already seen "evidence" of mice having been there. I was putting together the empty feed bags into themselves in preparation for getting them to the garbage cans out by the driveway. I then went to grab a couple of roofing shingles that were laying up against the wall under the window. Why those shingles are in there in the first place is something I'm still trying to figure out.
I very nonchalantly picked up the shingles and promptly screamed. Then ran out of the tack room with my eyes closed. How I did that is also, still very much a mystery. And for those wondering, yes the shingles were still in my hand.
Behind where those empty feed bags lay and the shingles were propped up was a lovely little mouse nest and at least 3 small mice. :::::shudder::::: Even reliving these details is giving my heart palpitations.
I'm totally serious.
As I stood there, swearing that no matter what my husband did or did not like, I was going out TODAY to find me two cats. Two kittens. Who would be neutered/spayed and given vaccinations and then loving cared for as they lived with the horses in the barn. I'm sure Craig's List could help me out.
Then I spied her. I spied my very own mouse hunter. I knew, she was up to the challenge. I knew I could count on her. She may be the most poorly behaved dog we've ever owned. She may be the only dog we've never 100% house trained because she's a stubborn Dachshund to her very core. But she knows how to kill a mouse.
I ran out of the fenced area, grab her up, took off her invisible fencing collar and then took her into the tack room and put her right in front of the nest. As I suspected, she immediately knew what she needed to do. She was up and in the hay (we just put 12 bales in there about 10 days ago) digging her way around. She could hear and smell them and she was PSYCHED.
I knew I had found my man. Or dog in this case.
I left her there and came inside to tell my daughter. She's every bit as excited about this as I am as she is my fellow horse feeder and spends time in that tack room too. She would prefer we get a cat or two but she understand that Hermione may have to do the job for us.
It's a beautiful day here, so I can leave the back door to the deck open and if Hermione wants out, she's very good at barking her message. After about 30 minutes, I went back out to check on her. Imagine my combined horror and delight to find a dead mouse awaiting me at the entrance of the tack room door. Hermione was already back on the job on top of the hay stack.
Of course, I had to go get the camera. I promise though...no dead mouse photos will be shown. Just my triumphant, fabulous mouse hunter in her element!