Katherine versus The Mouse
I first suspect something when a chunk seems to be missing from the back of my banana bread. But it's been taken without disturbing the foil, so I think it might be one of my weird friends, except that no one I hang out with would be rude enough to do something like that; they would just ask.
Then I find a munched-on potato surrounded by mouse poop in one of my kitchen drawers. It's official; I have an unpaying tenant.
I go to the hardware store. The hardware store guy says glue traps. I say no, they're cruel. He says yeah but they work. I compromise. I get the old-fashioned wooden traps with the metal springy things, and glue traps for back-up.
ROUND ONE:
I set the traps and put them in the potato drawer. I check them neurotically an hour later, even though I know there's no way anything is going to happen that quickly.
I'm wrong. The peanut butter is missing from one of the traps - yet the trap has not gone off.
I replace the peanut butter and reset the trap.
ROUND TWO:
Again, I check the trap within an hour or two. This time, both traps have gone off and flipped upside down. The peanut butter is gone. But there is no mouse.
ROUND THREE:
I set the glue traps. Less than half an hour later, I hear rustling in the drawer.
Oh fuck.
I can't just leave it to die there. That's too cruel. I have to kill it.
I get my hammer. I open the drawer. The thing is tiny and adorable, and completely plastered to the middle of the glue trap. I lift the hammer. I close my eyes. I bring down the hammer.
I miss. The hammer is now stuck in the glue trap, next to the terrified mouse. When I lift the hammer, the trap -- complete with the mouse's body -- comes with it. I set the entire contraption down on the kitchen floor and think about what to do next.
I get another hammer. I hit the mouse in the head until it stops moving. I hope it's at peace now.
I now try to retrieve my hammer, pinning the edge of the trap with the second hammer while trying to pull the first hammer free. But the first hammer is stuck good, and the dead mouse is making me feel queasy. I finally give up and throw away the first hammer, along with the trap and the dead mouse.
I take out the trash. I remove everything from the kitchen drawers and put it in the dishwasher or wash it by hand. I put on gloves and scrub the drawers until they are free of mouse poop and gnawed bits of potatoes. I feel clean and in control again; I have stopped imagining I see a mouse out of the corner of my eye every time I turn my head.
I sleep peacefully. I get up in the morning and open the drawer, ready to put the clean dishes back inside.
There is fresh poop in the empty drawer.
Mousey has friends.
I put back the glue traps. Within the next twelve hours, I catch three more mice. This time I keep my eyes open and efficiently put them out of their misery. Each time I peek in the drawer, I am filled with more dread. I do not want to find a mouse.
My aunt recommends scented dryer sheets; she says mice hate them. I buy some, take out the bottom drawer and toss a couple of sheets beneath it.
My friends with chemical sensitivity are no longer safe in my house, but since then, the traps have been empty. Though wait, let me go check one last time...
Yep. Eleven hours, mouse-free.
Then I find a munched-on potato surrounded by mouse poop in one of my kitchen drawers. It's official; I have an unpaying tenant.
I go to the hardware store. The hardware store guy says glue traps. I say no, they're cruel. He says yeah but they work. I compromise. I get the old-fashioned wooden traps with the metal springy things, and glue traps for back-up.
ROUND ONE:
I set the traps and put them in the potato drawer. I check them neurotically an hour later, even though I know there's no way anything is going to happen that quickly.
I'm wrong. The peanut butter is missing from one of the traps - yet the trap has not gone off.
I replace the peanut butter and reset the trap.
ROUND TWO:
Again, I check the trap within an hour or two. This time, both traps have gone off and flipped upside down. The peanut butter is gone. But there is no mouse.
ROUND THREE:
I set the glue traps. Less than half an hour later, I hear rustling in the drawer.
Oh fuck.
I can't just leave it to die there. That's too cruel. I have to kill it.
I get my hammer. I open the drawer. The thing is tiny and adorable, and completely plastered to the middle of the glue trap. I lift the hammer. I close my eyes. I bring down the hammer.
I miss. The hammer is now stuck in the glue trap, next to the terrified mouse. When I lift the hammer, the trap -- complete with the mouse's body -- comes with it. I set the entire contraption down on the kitchen floor and think about what to do next.
I get another hammer. I hit the mouse in the head until it stops moving. I hope it's at peace now.
I now try to retrieve my hammer, pinning the edge of the trap with the second hammer while trying to pull the first hammer free. But the first hammer is stuck good, and the dead mouse is making me feel queasy. I finally give up and throw away the first hammer, along with the trap and the dead mouse.
I take out the trash. I remove everything from the kitchen drawers and put it in the dishwasher or wash it by hand. I put on gloves and scrub the drawers until they are free of mouse poop and gnawed bits of potatoes. I feel clean and in control again; I have stopped imagining I see a mouse out of the corner of my eye every time I turn my head.
I sleep peacefully. I get up in the morning and open the drawer, ready to put the clean dishes back inside.
There is fresh poop in the empty drawer.
Mousey has friends.
I put back the glue traps. Within the next twelve hours, I catch three more mice. This time I keep my eyes open and efficiently put them out of their misery. Each time I peek in the drawer, I am filled with more dread. I do not want to find a mouse.
My aunt recommends scented dryer sheets; she says mice hate them. I buy some, take out the bottom drawer and toss a couple of sheets beneath it.
My friends with chemical sensitivity are no longer safe in my house, but since then, the traps have been empty. Though wait, let me go check one last time...
Yep. Eleven hours, mouse-free.