My Kitty-Kat is lying in wait for our furry invaders

THE mice are back. They never went away, as Gerry Adams once said, in a different context.

The little beggars must have been hibernating, or sheltering from the rain, but it was clear from their calling cards that they’re back in residence.

Where there’s one, there’s always half a dozen, at least, because they have large families. So says the long-lost peasant in me. And if they’re back, so are the mousetraps, retrieved from the drawer where they’ve been since last summer. You remember it, that sunny day in July, or was it August.

Old-fashioned wooden spring traps need to be baited with something they like: not cheese, they ignore that.

Chocolate is what they really crave, just like us. Here’s where a small bar of Kit-Kat comes in handy.

Break off a bit and impale it on the nail, and Mr Mouse can’t resist the temptation.

Kit-Kat works better than a real cat: more reliable and you don’t have to feed it or take out expensive pet insurance. The tally so far is five, within a week. So they may be living indoors, not visiting from outside.

There’s no sign of a nest, not even in the cellar, and no tell-tale smell. It’s a mystery where they come from, but I think I know where they’re going. The common house mouse, mus musculus, can live up to 18 months, building a nest from old newspapers and scavenging food.

Not in our house, matey, even if I have to suffer another bruised thumb from setting the traps. You have to be quick off the mark.

This must be Mr Mouse’s third year. Here’s hoping his stay isn’t as long as Agatha Christie’s play, The Mousetrap.