After a short discussion,
Ortega agreed to haul the hot tub away ($275). He encouraged us to replace the hot tub with a mouse-proof
one, totally encased in metal and tough plastic. But why didn’t he tell us about this improvement
immediately after the mice ate the first hot tub?
He also refused to offer a
trade-in on our current tub, saying that it would cost more to fix it than he
would get to sell it and he would only be taking it to the dump.
About a week later, Ortega and
a four-man crew arrived to remove the hot tub. When the lifted it up and took it out of the hole in the
treated-wood patio, we could see that the mice had constructed several nests,
had merrily chewed through a lot of insulation, had left many, many droppings
and several of their dead relatives.
We also found little,
as-yet-to-be mailed notes to the mouse relatives in Arizona and Nevada: “Having
a wonderful time. Lots to eat,
including wire insulation ’07, a particularly good year. It’s warm, especially if we all huddle together. Hope you can join us because we are
having a GREAAAT time!!”
I thought about cleaning up the
mess myself until I asked Rick and his brother Ike if that was dangerous. They advised me that mouse droppings,
especially in New Mexico, have been associated with the Plague and the
sometimes-fatal Hanta Virus.
So I quickly agree to hire Ike Ortega and his crew to clean the
area.
They arrived, donned facemasks,
and HazMat suits. Looking like
characters from some strange science fiction movie, they began spraying. So I had two alien guys in HazMat
suits breathing through fancy gas masks and sweeping up piles of mouse
poop. Call me a coward if
you will, but mention the Plague and the clean up cost, an additional $200,
seemed well worth it.
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