>Shrew Poo

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So now it’s shrews.

Shrews are like a cross between a mouse and a mole and they’ve dug burrows underneath our sidewalks all around our house.  I wouldn’t mind them so much except that when they come out at night they leave little presents all over our sidewalk.  Shrew poo.  Little piles everywhere.

We could probably call entomology, though the last time I called them to our house to inspect for termites (Tony and I watched a line of hundreds of brown winged ant-like bugs work their way through our bathroom one night) the exterminators found no evidence of such insects but did discover a strange powdery substance in my kitchen cabinets that I had to identify as dust.  After which they laughed at me and handed me a bag of ant traps since I told them I didn’t want poison sprayed all over my kitchen counters.

Instead, we’ve spared ourselves further judgment on our housekeeping/lawnkeeping skills and have decided to go au natural.  We let the cats out.  That’s what they do, right – they hunt?  I mean, they’re great at catching and killing geckos around the house, later leaving the tiny corpses on the floor to fossilize so that I can find and dispose of them later.

So the cats?  Well, they loved it. Midnight and Kabuki immediately set about running around, sniffing the ground and crouching low on all fours, listening for the telltale high-pitched squeaks.  Wasabi found our jogging stroller and climbed in because it’s safe from the scary shrews in there, though later he climbed back out and rolled on top of the shrew poo.  Tony said it’s because he’s disgusting, but because he’s my favorite ‘fraidy-cat I defended him: “He’s trying to disguise his own scent with that of the shrew.  So he can sneak up on them.”  Yeah.

We let them run around for half an hour before herding them inside (have you ever tried herding cats?  There’s a reason the expression means it’s a tough task), but in that time they didn’t catch a single one.  So Tony and I decided we should borrow our next-door neighbors’ Yorkshire Terrier to come dispose of them for us.  She routinely catches and kills the shrews in their yard, and coming to ours, we thought, could be a fun challenge.  We never did get around to borrowing their dog, but fortunately in the month or so since I originally began writing this post the shrew problem seems to have taken care of itself.

Or at least, someone’s taken care of it for us.  One morning I walked outside to discover a bloody stain on my front porch, and ever since that day I’ve seen neither hide nor poo from the shrews in our yard.  I’m assuming one of the neighborhood cats attacked, killed, and dragged away the corpse, leaving behind only the telltale evidence of a struggle.  And now when the cats escape Wasabi immediately rolls on the stains left behind, basking in the absorption of its scent onto himself. 

It really makes for a boring post, and I apologize to you for that.  But this blog is a record for me as much as a form of entertainment for you, and someday this is what I want to remember about our time on Okinawa.  Well, not this exactly.  But you know.

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