September 26, 2020

White Dog was humming a Beatles' tune when I asked her where Steve was. "Outside, surveying the wall by the garbage cart," was her answer.

He can in a few minutes later followed by his yard assistant, Roman. "I think we might have found the place where the mice are getting in. There is a tiny indentation but it is actually a hole right above the stem wall. We have to close that up right away." Roman was waiting to go out the dog door to get the project moving. 

While Steve rammed shreds of steel wool into the space, Roman patrolled looking for the little invaders. Then he used the expanding foam impregnated with a deterrent scent over the wire. "I hope it works. I hate using more aggressive remediation." "Don't worry, dad. If it is needed I can hunt them down."

"No," I told him. "No catching or eating mousies outside or in the house. You could get sick. Understand?"