The wife got some organic chocolate bars from a friend and stored them in a cabinet over the fridge. The uninvited mouse could have had all sorts of grains but preferred the chocolate.
The first night , I left the hinged trap unsprung on the floor near where droppings were left. Already nibbled chocolate pieces were glued to the trap with peanut butter. The rodent was lulled into a false confidence with a happy meal. The second night the trap was set. At 2am the clatter of wood on linoleum startled me awake, and as I headed for the kitchen, the other painful, squeaking sound became apparent.
Would I find splattered blood and viscera around the corner from where the ugly mix of sounds were coming?
Oh shit!, what to do with a pinned -down, live and kicking rodent- club him with a hammer? The visualized outcomes poured through my fuzzy brain... THAT'S IT.
I slowly stepped on the brass hinge that held his head tight to the wood with my slippered foot. He squirmed weakly and I realized a little more pressure would quicken his demise. I was completely in control of his death with a firm step, not needing to crush or to gloat. And so it ended, quiet at that hour, under the blaze of florescent lights
I put the body in a paper sack and went out into the mild night air, out into the darker alley where the stinky, composter drum sits, with its' gooey, maggot infested contents. In went the mouse with the rotting vegetation, egg shells and brocolli stems. Live, die, get eaten- you got a better suggestion?
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The first night , I left the hinged trap unsprung on the floor near where droppings were left. Already nibbled chocolate pieces were glued to the trap with peanut butter. The rodent was lulled into a false confidence with a happy meal. The second night the trap was set. At 2am the clatter of wood on linoleum startled me awake, and as I headed for the kitchen, the other painful, squeaking sound became apparent.
Would I find splattered blood and viscera around the corner from where the ugly mix of sounds were coming?
Oh shit!, what to do with a pinned -down, live and kicking rodent- club him with a hammer? The visualized outcomes poured through my fuzzy brain... THAT'S IT.
I slowly stepped on the brass hinge that held his head tight to the wood with my slippered foot. He squirmed weakly and I realized a little more pressure would quicken his demise. I was completely in control of his death with a firm step, not needing to crush or to gloat. And so it ended, quiet at that hour, under the blaze of florescent lights
I put the body in a paper sack and went out into the mild night air, out into the darker alley where the stinky, composter drum sits, with its' gooey, maggot infested contents. In went the mouse with the rotting vegetation, egg shells and brocolli stems. Live, die, get eaten- you got a better suggestion?
- MaFitz 7-29-2004 11:25 pm