MICE SIMPLY ARE NOT GOING TO WIN IN PIA'S HOME - EVER;

It's been a tough week at the Hansen residence: a war broke out and the cat was put on probation. And here's a warning: if you believe in humanely corralling, then relocating to their natural environment, disgusting disease-carrying rodents, just skip the rest of this column.

If I spot a mouse in my house, the war is on. All weapons are allowed. The Geneva Convention does not apply. There is no rodent tribunal - it simply comes down to me or them, and I keep score on a sheet of paper in the kitchen. Right now it says "Mice: 1. Pia: 5. Felix: 0." Considering that Felix is a cat and I'm not, something is wrong with that score.

It all began around 3 a.m. on a Wednesday. I'm snoring away when the cat pokes me. Hard. I roll over and mumble for him to go away. He pokes me again. Urgently. Painfully. I groan, and in the twilight zone of just waking up, I see a mouse, first staring me right in the face then desperately trying to hide between my arm and the sheets, its little tail wriggling with the effort.

The next moments are a blur: I scream and jump out of bed, flicking on the lights while I do the famous "shake the mouse out of your pajamas dance."

Felix rockets down the stairs leaving the rodent in my bed. I retrieve him and place him in a firm football grip under my right arm and return to the bedroom where I order him to finish up his mouse business. NOW.

Of course cats don't take orders and before I know it the mouse is gone. I go downstairs and sleep the rest of the night on the couch.

And so a war starts.

Traps are purchased and set. Two down. More traps are set. One more down. 48 hours pass with no, um, casualties. Traps are improved with peanut butter - Snap. Snap - which leads us to my cat's staggering lack of performance: I mean, I haven't even seen initiative, like hole sniffing or guard keeping at the basement door. What I've seen is 18 hours of sleep, preferably on MY pillow, leaving behind enough fur to make a tea cozy.

Oh he cuddles all right and purrs and meows and carries on when his dish is empty.

But a mouse hunter he ain't.

On our pet pages 18-19 today you'll find tips and hints on how to travel with your dog, and a great story on how to start an aquarium.

Pat Munts deals with basil on page 15 and she's got good news: if yours look droopy and yellow, it's not your fault.

If you ever wanted to plant annuals in a basketball, we'll show you how that's done in the cover story on pages 10-11.

Next week it's on to the roses - roses or all sizes, scents and colors.

And if you're still wondering why the mice got one point, it's because one made me scream.

I'm not a screaming kind of woman.

Pia K. Hansen

Home Editor

piah@spokesman.com

(509) 459-5427

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