Are you ready for this one?
We have mice. They live in our basement. Now you know this is going to be great story don't you?
I don't like mice much. If they live somewhere else I am fine with them. But they love my kitchen and I don't love them there. So I set traps. My old method of disposal was to grab the spent trap with a bag stuck over my hand, turn inside out and throw away. I got this great hint from my friend Dorothy. Set the trap then put it in a paper lunch sack. That way when the trap has been spent you just close up the end of the bag and toss it out. This works great unless the mouse still has use of most of his legs.
Last night I put a trap bag on the kitchen counter where he left traces of himself last night. This morning when I checked the bag the trap was gone. What?!?! Well, you know what that means don't you. The mouse didn't die and dragged that trap somewhere! I was not looking forward to finding him later. Then I moved my container of tomatoes and saw the trap and mouse. I quickly took care of it. The End.
Okay, that's not what happened. I jumped away and screamed. Seriously, what did I think he was going to do, attack me?? I always jump and scream. This, of course, brought the girls attention the attention to the trap and mouse. They wanted to see. Okaaaay, knock yourselves out. That's when they noticed that it wasn't dead. I had assumed that it had died there, it hadn't. Oh goody!
So I grabbed a plastic bag and prepared/ braced myself. That's when the chaos ensued. The girls had seen the mouse and it was soooo cute. So now I'm about to kill a poor, defenseless, cute little animal. It doesn't help we were talking about having a pet this morning at breakfast. Correction, they were talking about having a pet. I was talking about how much they cost and that, no we weren't getting on any time soon. Only the mouses leg had gotten trapped so he was able to use his other 3 to drag the trap across the counter.
I look at Sweetie Heart. She is standing there stiffly, looking at me, a little red in the face. I know that look, that is anger, full blown about to burst. She asks me to let it go. That would require me to get near it, not a chance! She offers to do it, but I don't feel like I can do that either because what if it bits her, who knows what kind of diseases it is carrying. The plague was carried my mice you know. Okay, that's a bit over blown, but still. Plus it will probably die anyway, and if it didn't then it will just come back into my house. No, thanks. To her credit she did stay composed. She offered other solutions. I wish I could have said yes to one of them.
I hear Sweet Girls reaction before I see which is a full blown temper tantrum and begging fest asking if we can please keep it because it's soooo cute. There is a red face, tears, but most of all the eardrum piercing screams.
I walk into the other room. Sweetie Heart is still standing there and calls to me that the mouse has run back into the bag! Miracle of miracles. I ask her to tip the bag up so he can run out. I grab the stapler and staple the bag shut before anything else can happen and take the mouse out of the house.
The antics continue. I go upstairs and phone Webby to see if he has any suggestions. They follow continuing their behavior. He chuckles. Honestly, I would too if someone else were telling me this story. He talked to them a bit. He explains things to both of them separately. Sweetie Heart does her best to explain to him why he is wrong and giving her solutions. Sweet Girl actually seems to get it. Huh.
So that is the end of the story. Did you laugh. I think I will now.
Off to set another trap.
1 comment:
girl. i know. i had them in manhattan. one day my super let himself in without informing me, and laid sticky traps. fast forward to me getting dressed one cold morning and wrapping my scarf around my neck...but wait. there's something sticky on it and now it's stuck to my hand. and so is a mouse, and it's still ALIVE! my roommate nearly fainted.
i am sorry to say that i put it in the trash still breathing and went to work, troubled, but knowing i could not kill it outright. i am still haunted by little struggling mouse. can you tell i wasn't brought up on a farm?
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