3 blind mice: I am the exterminator
I love animals. Great and small. Really. I’m a mellow person. I have no desire to kill anything; frankly it grosses me out.
A few months ago, as I was watching tv, a little grey flash in the corner of my eye and a scuttling sound, alerted me we had a mouse problem.
I did the next reasonable thing. I told my dad we had to do something about the mice. Offloading the problem seemed best.
Dad felt similarly disinclined. “They’re not doing any harm”, he said.
“Yes dad but we’ll have to get rid of them someday and the longer we leave it the more we’ll have to kill.”
His silence acknowledged the triumph of logic.
Days passed and nothing was done. Until we realised we in fact, had a mice problem.
I have two pet rabbits, which I keep in a cage in the lounge room. The mice worked out how to get into said cage by climbing a piece of cardboard up the side. Ingenious for a mouse really. Truly impressive. Those buggers were hungry.
They also gnawed a hole in a cushion. Really hungry.
Then I awoke one night to hear a rough thumping in the rabbits’ cage. My motherly instinct kicked in. I went to the lounge room, turned on the light, pulled the litter tray at the bottom of the cage and bingo. Three of them.
As I pulled out the tray they each did a kamikaze suicide leap and scuttled out of view, quick as a flash.
The incident inspired a kind of anger and defensiveness. This meant war. Dammit! This is my house.
So we bought traps. When I set them, a kind of hunter mentality set in; I arranged the bread before the trap in a way I thought they would find alluring. In no time at all, I had three victims
I rationalised that the trap was fast painless and that thanks to the impeccably clean house we live in, so long as they’re were kept out of the rabbits’ cage they were starving.
Better they die quickly in a trap than starve to death.
While that’s true, it’s tough to do. The two times I set the traps I didn’t have to clean it up or see the results. My parents took care of it and I felt a certain satisfaction knowing I winning the battle against the mice. I was the exterminator!
The third time however I had the day off and caught a glimpse of my handiwork emerging from the trap.
He or she. I don’t know. Lay there stiff and droopy in one of the newer varieties of traps you can buy at the supermarket. It snaps down hard but doesn’t cut like the wire. It just breaks the neck in one hit. No blood. Nifty? I don’t know.
Haven’t set the trap since. It’s their house.
