Of Mighty Mouse and Men

We have mice and have been fighting a losing battle with them since Christmas. Finally, after dozens of Have -a -Heart traps, homemade traps, and various incarnations of traps assembled from pieces of my old board game “mouse trap” (there were many marbles involved), my roommates (i.e. my parents) and I decided it was time for the dreaded, but actually proven, snap traps.

We set a couple up one evening last weekend and let them do their magic. I awoke early the next morning and tiptoed backwards into the kitchen, though, I could not help but turn and look. Sure enough, the flat desiccated corpse of a very large mouse lay on the index sized piece of ply wood forming the base of the trap. Claiming Female Hysteria, my mom and I refused to even go near the area until my dad performed a thorough crime scene cleansing.

The following evening I came home from work and my dad tells me that he has seen several baby mice zipping around the kitchen and that currently, one is in the family room racing around the rug. After shuddering with the thought of mice skipping over my toes, I proceeded to the den to find the tiniest little mouse I have ever seen, looking up at me with his big brown mouse eyes. A mixture of disgust, shock, and awww washed over me at once. I decided to try and catch the mouse in a cup to set it free, knowing how heartbroken I’d be if it ended up nibbling on that big piece of cheese in sky due to the snap traps lining the baseboards in the kitchen. I grab a big plastic cup and go at it. 30 minutes later, I am still chasing this mouse the size of a marble around the family room. Each time I think the mouse has finally gone through its hole and back to its nest, I see a part of the pattern on the Oriental rug jump, and I know the little rodent is still running for his life.

All during this frenzied, exhausting, and sweat inducing chase, my dad had been heckling me from the sidelines, exclaiming how he just can’t believe I have not caught this mouse. Yes, because that is just sooo unbelievable that a mouse, which can squeeze though a crevice the size of a dime, can outrun me. My dad then goes on to say, “what you need is…” and he gets up and goes to the utensil drawer. My eyes get wide, and my heart races. Is my dad seriously going to get a butcher knife? As my mind seizes on ways to stall him, he reaches into the drawer and pulls out…a spoon. For his yogurt. He shuffles back to the table and finally completes his thought, saying “what you need is another trap.” I sighed deeply, took a breath, and then sauntered back into the living room mouse war ready for battle.