Wednesday, May 18, 2011

Getting Territorial, or There's a Mouse in My House!

Yesterday a friend was telling me about the trials and tribulations of introducing a new cat into her already-cat-populated apartment. This involves keeping New Cat in isolation, petting various cats in succession to get them used to the new smell, etc. Because right now? Cat already in residence is none too fond of the interloper.

Which we all know. Cats are scary territorial. They hiss and claw and take a stand by hiding on top of the refrigerator. They will fight to keep the apartment their property (anyone who owns a cat and thinks they also own their apartment is wrong and we all know it). As, I have learned, will bunnies. (Oh lord. Do NOT get me started on territorial rabbits in close proximity. They're vicious little buggers. Short version: if you can possibly avoid it, don't try to keep five rabbits in one New York apartment. Just no.)

And Josh Dermit, humans are territorial too! (This is a startling revelatory revelation I have made)

My own territorialness basically manifests in a Why-do-you-live-in-New-York-then? way: I hatehatehate having vermin wandering. When I was a wee young thing our house had a waterbug problem - these alien-looking things haunted the place, at least four inches in length (well, they were to my child's eye), and not even scuttling in fear, but chillaxing on various surfaces throughout the house like awful awful car decals. And no. It's a horrible gross invasion of my space and just NO. I've lived with roommates who for whatever reason do not have a big problem with the roaches that were inhabiting our kitchen, and I just don't get that. They are IN my SPACE and they need to leave.

In my current apartment, we've managed to keep the space mercifully clean enough that we haven't had ourselves a roach, or any other vermin, problem. Until the text I got last night from my roommate asking me to pick up mousetraps.


Ick Ick Ick.

Roommate is optimistic the traps will work and our little furry friend will go the way of my old hermit crab, Dr. Pepper. But I just keep remembering the mouse that used to live in the ceiling of our basement back home. Tumbling, scrambling, scampering, squeaking, that little mouse was impervious to all the traps the exterminators came and laid out in the ceiling panels. That intrepid little Feivel lasted for years and the only good use I got out of him was scaring my friends when they came over for a slumber party (heh heh heh).

I know that vermin are just kind of everywhere in a city. Fine, whatever. They can go where they want. Except in my space. No home invasions allowed, thank you very much.


  1. Inadvertent steam-engine train of thought:
    1. "Wow! I haven't thought about Feivel Goes West in a long time."
    2. "Now I really want to watch Feivel Goes West again."
    [-> IMDB]
    3. "Whoa! Jimmy Stewart was in it? Now I really need to watch this again."
    4. "It was his last movie? That's kind of sad."
    5. "A bit like Paul Newman's last movie being Cars, actually."
    6. "Holy crap, Jimmy Stewart only won one Oscar in his entire career."
    7. "And he wasn't even nominated for any of the Hitchcock movies."

    Which is how it came to be that you wrote a blog post about having a mouse in your flat and the only thing I can think to say in reply is, "What kind of messed-up, imbecilic universe do we live in that James Cameron has won three times as many Oscars as James Stewart?"

  2. Dear Brian,

    Best. Comment. Ever.