![](https://images.ecency.com/DQmQ9ivSJ7gNUKcAyVmE23M57UUimWxKRyhy75iCgPRPwxg/1746826925090.jpg)


I remember when we newly packed into our new house, it was a small cozy place but we lived in absolute peace, until the mice came along.

At first, it was just one mouse or two, darting across the kitchen floor late at night but soon, they multiplied, chewing through the pantry, nibbling on the bread, and living little droppings like dark grains of rice. There was nothing we didn't try to get rid of them, Mom did the traps and the poison, but the mice were very clever, always one step ahead.

One night, we could not sleep at all because the house reverberated with their sounds. Dad sat down at the kitchen table with his head in his hands. 

"I just can't believe what is happening, this is no longer a home, It has become a battlefield." he muttered sadly.

Mom nodded gravely.

"Every night they are all over the place, scratching, squeaking, running, dancing. It has become so bad that the children can't even sleep without being scratched at."

"Papa, can't we get a cat? My friend Josephine says her cat cleared all the mice in their house." It was my elder sister, Melissa speaking.

"A cat, hmm? That might work." He nodded in approval.

"I hate Cats! No I can't stand them, their eyes give me the creeps. No no, think of something else please." It was an outburst from Mom.

"Okay you suggest a solution because I'm honestly out of ideas. We have tried the traps, the poison, everything I know and nothing seems to be working." Dad spoke in an exasperated tone.

"Mom", I added, "it's only a cat that we haven't tried out and I'm sure that our problems would be solved if we can get one, please."

Grudgingly she agreed.

So the next day, Dad and I visited Mr Sam who reared them for sale and returned with a beautiful and sleek, amber-eyed cat. I quickly named him Shaded.


![](https://images.ecency.com/DQmRXhasSU3okkGz5t8P7EH14rnmBUmSwQcMRthBWcVDesc/1746826925210.jpg)


Shaded prowled the house with silent grace, his tail flicking like a whip and chasing everything that moved in the house. At first, we all rejoiced because there were no signs of the mice anymore, just like they vanished overnight. The house grew quiet.


But what we didn't know was that the mice were trying to adapt to the presence of a deadly predator. They became even more cunning and avoided the open floor and gnawed small holes behind cupboards and under appliances. Shaded caught a few, but not enough to break their spirit.

Meanwhile, we became frustrated as the noise and the hell gradually returned. The house became infested once again.

"I thought the cat would end this!" Mom cried out one morning as she discovered chewed packets  of noodles in the pantry.

Melissa frowned. 

"Maybe we need to do more, maybe it's not just about catching them, maybe we have to make this house inconducive for them."

Dad's eyes lit up. "My daughter you're right you know. No food crumbs, no mice. We will seal every hole, store every grain in solid containers, and make sure that the house is always clean and free from crumbs. If they have nothing to eat, they’ll leave."

So we sprang into action. We patched all holes with concrete cement, cleaned the kitchen until it gleamed, and stored food in airtight tins. Shaded still prowled, but now, the mice found no easy meals, no crumbs, nothing to nibble at.

And so peace returned to the house once again. I think the mice might have left, seeking easier pickings elsewhere. We eventually were able to finally sleep in peace. The house was ours again — clean, quiet, and whole.

Many days had passed and there was no sign of even a mouse in the house. As we sat in the living room that evening, Dad patted Melissa on the head.

"It wasn't the cat alone that chased the mice away, it was our collective effort and our will to reclaim our mice-infested home."

"Thank goodness we were able to rid the house of such nuisance, it was really so bothersome." Mom concluded as she continued with her crocheting of a new table cloth.

"Dad, where do you think all the mice have gone to? Asked my four-year-old sister, Marian.

"To other people's houses where they are welcomed with open arms." I responded, laughing happily.



![](https://images.ecency.com/DQmQMrFKpRQaSYkmMRAEs48KDPQ4CCWVzpekJkv24NeSZRH/1746827309446.jpg)



Shaded, now a hero, stretched out on the rug by the TV set, his amber eyes half-closed, listening to the conversation that spoke of victory.

From that day on, we kept our home clean and sealed, and the mice never returned.



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