Our mouse situation went from sheer panic to exasperating to freedom! in a little less than two weeks. The culmination of this short saga came a few days ago.
6AM I wandered downstairs with my usual apathy; eyelids barely open; muscles whimpering, beginning to recover from their inertia. I let the dog out, started tidying up the kids toys from the previous evening, unlocked the front door, grabbed the newspaper, started making some coffee… when I remembered the mouse traps.
In the last week there hadn’t been a single mouse caught. I wasn’t exactly expecting for this day to be different than all the others. Still, as I did every morning I glanced briefly and with trepidation at the death traps, keeping my eyes on them only long enough to discern whether or not Jon had caught anything.
This day, against the odds, he did.
I convulsed, trying to rid myself of the heebie jeebies and screamed Hubby’s name repeatedly like a sissy little girl over and over until the whole house erupted in hysterics.
Jon flew out of his coma and down the stairs with startling speed. With a whoop, he picked the trap up and danced around the kitchen like a little elf on amphetamines.
In his excitement, he forgot that he was a parent and not a goofy 12 year old old boy and insisted James come see the cool dead mouse. Which James did. And he thought it was cool. My 12 year old self was right – boys are gross. (Unless they were Howie D., of course.)
So far we haven’t had a single nibble off any of the other traps. Instead of the army of mice I had envisioned, it was likely just one very porky little mouse.
In fact, I’m quite sure our mousie actually ate himself to death. After a week or two of managing to clean globs of peanut butter off each of our dozen mouse traps without actually setting off a single one – he wasn’t just a little chubby. He was impossibly obese. The combination of his incredible heftiness, a puffed up sense of safety and gluttony for peanut butter, ended up being lethal.
And thus little mousie became the architect of his own demise. I think we could all learn something from mousie, though I’m not entirely sure what that is. At any rate – what a way to go.