Of Mice and Men and Me

When I came down to feed the dogs last Thursday, I noticed that a small hole, gnawed by a small creature, had appeared over night.  About an inch away, under the rug, was a piece of dog food.  While I cursed his destruction, I also felt a little sorry that the guy had worked so hard and still gone to bed without supper.

When Bill came down I showed him the evidence and he said, “Looks like we have a mouse.”

We’ve been through this before.  “I don’t think we have ‘a mouse’.  One.  Do you?”

“Yes, I do.  I’ll set a trap tonight.”

And he did.  Before we were both settled in bed we heard the snap.  He could not have looked more victorious if he had slain a bison to get us through the winter.  He went to check.

“Do you have a shoebox?”

I looked up from my book, “Well, yes.  Are you going to bury him?”

“No.  It’s just.  He’s not dead yet.”

“There’s one in my car.”  (No explanation needed I’m sure.)

He returned sheepish and wincing.

“Did you get him?”

“No, he got away.”

“Did you reset the trap?”

“Um, no.”

“Ick.  Now I’m going to be worried that he’s going to be dashing across the kitchen every time I’m in there.”

“Don’t worry, if you see him in the kitchen he will be running in circles.”

“What?  Why?”

“He’s missing an eye.  The trap hit him, it just…”

“Stop, stop, stop!” I said, eyes closed, faced turned away.  Killing him brought no qualms; maiming him was unthinkable.

“I still think you should reset the trap.”


“Well, I do think he has friends.”

“You won’t see them tomorrow.”

“Why not?”

“They’ll all be on a deathbed vigil,” he assured me as he snapped off the light.

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15 thoughts on “Of Mice and Men and Me

  1. Absolutely love this commentary!

    So enjoying your blog! Coming to KC in June.. it's been a long time but I hope to take in the sculpture garden and the museum.

    Thanks, Faith Sheridan

  2. I had a mouse, and living alone I did not want to kill "him." Funny how I give it the male gender. The man at the hardware store thought I was nuts. . .but they do make humane traps you can set with peanut butter – as we know, the food of gods. It worked and I covered the trap with a rag, put "him" in the car and drove him to a lovely field, whereupon he gained his freedom and it saved my tender heart! Good luck!

  3. Patricia too funny! I don't know what is better; the Women's Alliance of Shoeboxes in the Trunk or the One Eyed Mouse!

    Interview with Segreto Finishes and their fabulous book Giveaway!

    Art by Karena

  4. EEEWWWWWW!! All of the men in my family are/were good hunters, but after 30 years of traps, gasping surprises of desiccated rodent corpses, plus the fact that I alone had to rise to task, I found the perfect solution: cat. (My dear husband wouldn't stand for a cat in the family, but after he reached angel status, I've had to get creative on many fronts.) I can't believe how this new little hunter has come along to complete the family! I am even believing my angel is looking down with approval. This cat can HUNT! There's not a mouse or a vole or a mole w/in a quarter-mile radius of my home! He even dusts under the furniture….oh, and he doesn't hog the covers.

  5. I had a mouth full of breakfast smoothie . I like your husband . Dry humor can not be beat! I do think he should have reset the trap. Cute rug, darn!

  6. I am regularly called upon by female friends to deal with such matters. The concept of a mouse is not so unsettling to me. My grandmother used to have a field mouse that came indoors for two weeks each spring and fall as the gardens were turned and the weather changed, it even watched TV with her – I kid you not. Yet, when I once found a water bug in my flat, I nearly blew up my TV in efforts to kill it. Funny what things make our flesh crawl…

  7. Hysterical! When my husband and I moved into our last house I was home one evening and spotted a mouse scamper by. Eeek! I immediately called him at work and told him to pick up some traps and come home NOW! I also explicitly said I did not want any humane traps because I wanted those little effers dead!

    Apparently, our little mouse also had friends and every night for a few days while lying in bed at about 10:30 we would hear SNAP! and husband would be off to deal with a little mouse carcass. Good times.

  8. Oh to be a fly on your wall. Well actually, maybe not.

    Makes me remember our first week in the condo. One mouse, one glue trap, two grown men with a trash bag and a pair of BBQ tongs.

  9. Oh gosh…..I couldn't kill a moth last night…beautiful 2" wingspread…so I turned the task to my husband because…I couldn't. He missed it 3 times and then it got away…down under our bed…next to my closet with wool….sigh

  10. delightful blog–disturbing honesty–am hooked!

    growing up my parents were forever building homes–which led to the field mice infestion{s} of my youth. i faithfully saved many days by donning my riding boots and running through the house banging a pot with a spoon. it kept the furry critters away until my dad could come home and set traps. and i remember vividly how he'd wake me and my younger sister singing "M-I-C, see you real soon, K-E-Y, why? beacause I love you . . . " WITH A DEAD MOUSE IN HIS HAND. Had us both in full-steam-ahead mode and ready for school on time, every time!


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