This Is War

They know I am on to them.

As bold as brass they run across the floor. With no care that I am there.

Now, with traps set in strategic places they refuse to venture forth.

We can not co exist. I draw the line.

They are small and furry. They leave messes everywhere.

They are almost like my children in some ways.

But my children are allowed to stay.

They are not.
I am sure they would argue they have been here longer. 
It bears no weight. 
Even if some think they are cute and Walt has personified the image.

 I wait to hear a snap. I check to see if there are any signs.

I even dreamed I have conquered them.

But not this morning.

One snapped and sprung into my grease cup.

Really?
The other licked dry of peanut butter. 

They think they are going to have the last laugh.

We scrub cupboards and dishes with clorox.

Leviticus 11:29
Now these are to you the unclean among the swarming things which swarm on the earth: the mole, and the mouse, and the great lizard in its kinds,

Nothing that swarms is good. 

This is war. 

Unless Mighty Mouse is headed our way.