I remember when my dad used to set traps around the house, and I felt bad for the mice and rats he was killing.
No more.
These little buggers dart around in my peripheral vision. They think they’re so quick, but I know their game. Part of the problem is, when you live inside a library with a lot of important stuff on the floor below you, there is no room for messing around with any liability.
The mice did hit me back. I recently found a “bonus” prize: the half-decomposed, half-mummified body of a mouse who had been stuck to one of those glue traps and dragged himself under the fridge to die—it really must have been an awful way to go, but his revenge lasted weeks; I’d been wondering why my fridge smelled sour despite all my cleaning efforts.
I’m very convinced of the humanity of the classic spring snap mousetrap. There is really no quicker way to go. You take a bite, and it’s over before you even taste the cheese. I hope I go that quickly, I just hope that when I ultimately bite the cheese, mine comes with a small side of dignity.
I figured my journal would be a-okay without a picture gallery of my murder spree, so instead, here is a collection of shattered childhood fantasies:
1 comment:
Mice, rats, beavers and capybyras rodents one and all. Vermin by any other name would be just as bad. I developed my antipathy towards mice on a 10 day hitch hike to the pacific northwest. Trip budget $50 US (1974 dollars). Day three I noticed that my trail mix tasted a bit fusty... Damn! I thought, this stuff couldn't go bad in three days. Finally took a good look an what i was throwing in my mouth and found some little rodent has chewed a hole in the bag and had filled his belly with my mix. Must have had a short digestive tract cause he/she crapped twice for every bite they swallowed. Never had the same feelings towards Mickey and Minnie since. I'll save the Hanta virus rant for another time.
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