Turns out, the store shown in the film Ratatouille is real. And it’s next to a café.
But then again, every shop in Paris is next to a café.
Let’s get a closer look at what they are looking at, shall we?
|You just can’t make this up.|
As you may have read, I’ve had a few unwelcome house guests. And since I laid out the gooey traps, which are said by many store keepers to be the best, I’ve had to replace two of them. In one case, the trap and the victim just disappeared. Now there is a mouse traipsing around Paris with cardboard glued to it’s back. In the second case, I was in the bedroom reading when I heard a screech. Yep, the writhing beast that had landed on my trap. Just then I heard Christophe coming up the courtyard. I yelled down to him from the bedroom window.
“Be careful when you come in the house.”
“Ummmm…” I didn’t know how to explain in french about the mouse. “It’s the war.”
“Je comprends.” I understand.
He came in, saw the writhing, saw me standing on the bed, picked up the cardboard, took it outside and… ended the misery for all of us.
So that resulted in days of unrest in my bed and in my soul.
Since then, there have been two more mouse sightings. One of which happened when we were watching TV. I looked up and saw a mouse staring down at me from on top of the cupboards.
I screamed. It ran. Christophe sighed.
There had to be another way. I don’t want to kill things but I also want a furry-free environment. I’d prefer to make my environment inhospitable so they don’t come in it at all.
“I had a furry little friend once,” says my friend Alison. “I poisoned him.”
Apparently, there is poison that, when ingested, dehydrates les souris so that they go outside to find water and then die outside. Or if they don’t make it outside, they dry up so there is no smell.
Sounds like a horrifying but effective solution. The problem is that there is a constant drip in my Parisian flat. There is a bucket that gets emptied once a week. I won’t go near it, of course, because it’s in the dark closet and now I’m afraid of the boogie monster, which in my mind looks a lot like a giant mouse.
So if I dole out the poison candy, I could have a herd heading to the water hole that is the bucket in the closet, splashing around and drinking water until they… well, you know.
Then I’d scream again and Christophe would sigh again.
I had to go to the experts. I went to the famous Destruction des Animaux Nuisibles as shown above.
Inside the store, you’ll find many products that will help you unleash the seven circles of Hell on disease-carrying critters. They have poisons, traps and many other deterrents for rodents, pigeons and any matter of vermin you’d like to eliminate from your life.
But one solution caught my eye.
The Ultrasonic Pest Repeller. You plug this thingamajig into the wall and it emits an unpleasant sound to unpleasant intruders of the vermin variety. Humans can’t hear it, but the vermin can’t handle the noise so they pack their little valises and look for another wall to live behind.
No dead bodies. No writhing. No screeching.
I brought it home and plugged it in. Then I listened for scurrying behind the walls. I imagined a lot of confused mice running around, which wigged me out, so I scurried myself out the door for the afternoon. You know, to give them privacy while they pack their things.
I went out to buy more traps. Why? Because I like to test my theory.
I returned home and placed a trap into every known mouse entrance. More as a deterrent than anything. More for me than for them. Two layers of protection. Like sunscreen.
With Hell successfully unleashed, I slept better last night than I had in the week since this saga began. And now as I sit happily in an apartment that even feels more silent. No more scurrying. No more writhing. Not even buzzing because the Ultrasonic Pest Repellent works on bugs, too.
Silence rules. And now in my apartment, I rule, too.
I’m shocked at just how on edge I was during this episode. Now that I feel some semblance of security, my belly is relaxed and I feel more comfortable in my own space. It’s emotionally draining not feeling comfortable in the place where you hang your hat. I wonder if that’s how the mice feel now. Maybe they were trying to repel me before and I reversed it with my little pest-repelling plug in.
Ah revenge. Sweet silent revenge.