Yesterday morning I went to open a can of mixed nuts to put some in BlindHorse's lunchbox and noticed some little black plastic shavings on the counter. Then I noticed the little teeth marks on the lid. Arg! A mouse!

After a quick rummage through drawers I'm assured he's been into nothing else... yet. Still have to hit everything with the disinfectant wipes, but no casualties besides the nuts. OK, calm down. You have a brand new pack of mouse traps in the catch-all drawer.

As I open up the plastic on the mousetraps I realize that they are the cheapo ones we picked up at the dollar store. The wood has no printing on it and it's not really square. It actually looks like they they took extra large shims and tacked on the mousie hardware. "Who cares?" I think as I rummage around for the almond butter. By this time tomorrow I'm just going to be tossing it in the dumpster with a dead mouse attached.

My first sign should have been when I couldn't get the sucker to set. It was the hairiest hair-trigger you ever saw. After a few dozen snaps and some almond butter flipped onto my face, I realize that the little hole that you put the wire through hasn't punched all the way out and there is a little round metal bit hanging on like a skin tag. After I punch it all the way out I still have to bend the trigger plate just slightly to finish the deal.

I'm a little perturbed, but I'm still in huntress mode as I pull out the bottom cabinet drawer and gently slide the trap to rest against the wall in the space under the fridge. This is my favorite ambush spot. Gets 'em every time. We used to leave a set trap in there all the time, just in case. But ever since that... What is that smell? Is that a rat? Are those maggots?...incident, we have changed over to a 'wait for first blood' approach.

I forget all the trap wrangling as I replace the drawer and wipe the almond butter from my cheek. It will all be worth it when I hear that snap. It's the sound of victory. It's the single drumbeat in the death march of a mouse invader.

I put it from my mind afterwards. A watched pot never boils. I wouldn't even check on it until tomorrow. But then last night, as I lounged in my regular spot on the couch, computer perched on my lap and my pre-bed hot cocoa (with marshmallows) steaming it's chocolately goodness into the air at arm's reach...

Thwack!

Ahhh! The sweet sound of success. My crusade was short, but satisfying.

jiggle. tink. thump. thump.

Eeeewwww!

Now, I'm a nature lover. I'm not against the death of a creature for the the greater good (or to save my mixed nuts), but I like the kill to be clean and quick if I can. Sure it's more than the mouse could expect from nature. The feral park cats might play with him a while before dispatching him. But I am a higher animal.

tonk. thump. jiggle.

Sheesh, would you just suffocate or have a little mousie heart attack already.

thump. BONK!

In the back of my mind I wonder if maybe it was actually a rat instead of a mouse. I imagine that there is a large Norway rat under my refrigerator flailing around with a cheapo dollar store mousetrap clipped annoyingly to the end of his nose.

tink-tonk-thump-bump-jiggle-bonk-bink

This is going on way too long and is hard to sit through. In fact, I don't. I run past the fridge to the bedroom and wake up BlindHorse with a start.

"Can you hear that?" I ask. (Probably not since he had been fast asleep with his earplugs in) "I caught the mouse, but it's not dead and it's thumping around under there and it's really freaking me out."

Telling me I just need to let things run their course, he rolls over.

I know. I'm a ranch girl. I sit and smell the daisies with alligators. I'm not usually one to yell for a man whenever I see a spider. But this flailing rat/mouse staccato coming from behind a drawer underneath my fridge has got me wigged out. At every pause I hope it's over.

flip flip tink thump

A minute or so later BlindHorse comes into the kitchen. I'm sitting on the couch with my knees pulled up under my chin staring across the room at the drawer. "Where's the flashlight?" he drawls resignedly.

I hop up, smiling, to get it. He loves me. He couldn't go back to sleep and leave me alone with my flopping mouse.

He slowly slides out the drawer. I voice my concerns that it is a man eating rat with a flimsy mousetrap stuck on it's nose.

But no. It is a little mouse with a flimsy mousetrap stuck around his middle like a girdle made from a paper clip. The combination of the big looming human and the piercing flashlight seem to give him an extra shot of mousie adrenaline. With a final flailing heave, the mouse slips out of the trap and darts away into the darkness that leads to the underneath storage area.

I am tossing the two useless mousetraps still left in the package. When BlindHorse gets off from work tonight we will have to get some better ones. But I have a feeling it may be harder to catch the little bugger the second time around.


Photography... ~weelittlesoul
Stock... *SalsolaStock
Traditional/Digital Art... ~weelittlebit
My love... ~blndhrse