a guinea pig story

Julia got tired of these guinea pigs in her room for a number of reasons.   The hay and pine have their own little farm odor.  They take up a lot of  room. And mice were upstairs.  We've never really had mice upstairs before, but guinea pig food and bedding are all very dear to mice, so we got them out of her bedroom.

She was also annoyed with them in general, expressed that they are ungrateful.

A few months ago they were relocated to this room instead and it has worked out fine.  The little ingrates seem to like it just fine in there. It's sunny in the afternoon, and there's a space heater and Julia tends to them faithfully.

But the damned mice dodging around have been an ongoing problem. We have traps EVERYWHERE and have caught numerous mice, but there seem to always be another racing from fridge to stove, darting in unexpected places about the time we've thought there are no more. 

Ugh, ugh, ugh.

Mice don't even look at these traps.

Why?

Because the mice are FULL.

Well, the other day, early in the morning, Jay opened the bedroom door and saw a mouse JUMP OUT OF THE CAGE.

!!!!!!

No! Oh no, no, no, no, no.

So we rearranged the whole room, took down the bed, have it all situated so there is a wide radius around the table, so no mice can get up there, and we are observing and keeping our traps going.  Snap top bins were purchased to store the hay and wood chips.

Since we did this, there were three mice trapped under the kitchen sink and zero seen in this room.

<Shudder>

When we were in Mexico last week we went to the old zoo there. It's built into the side of the mountain, lush and shady.   We found the spot the guinea pigs always were before, and I sent this picture to the girls, "Where are the guinea pigs?"

Around the corner: 

We found them!

I don't think any of those are named after Harry Styles, but you never know.

So much love, MOM