Throw Your Hands Up At Me.

All the women, who independent: I am one of you, because I caught a mouse by myself. What.

I be singing Destiny’s Child after yesterday, when I:

  1. Purchased multiple mousetraps.
  2. Figured out how to work one of them.
  3. Bravely went back into the room of which the mouse did lurk.
  4. Caught the mouse live and intact.
  5. Set it free in the woods.

And that’s how it’s done.

Merrick and I drove directly to Atwoods yesterday morning after dropping Mia off at school. I figured if there were seriously effective mousetraps anywhere in the world, they would be at a farm store. Problem: the farm store is huge and full of cool things, and after looking longingly at the chickens and rabbits for about an hour, we checked out the toys. And then we played with lassoes for a while and we almost left the store without getting what we went there for in the first place. I came to my senses, decided we couldn’t keep a baby chicken in the bathtub, and set off to find the mousetraps. That’s when I ran into Country Dan.

Dan: “Can I help ya?”

Me: “Yes. I need mousetraps. Lots of them.”

Dan: “Well, they’s just right around this corner. Ya got mice in yur barn?”

Me: “No, I have a mouse in my actual house and that is enough for me thankyouverymuch.”

Dan: “Well, ya-gotchur pre-baited traps and yur traps thatcha bait yurself, ‘course we do sell the bait if ya wanna try any of that, and here’s yur basic mouse trap, like the kind ya see on Tom and Jerry. How many are ya needin’?”

Me: “These traps….will there be guts? Will I have to touch the mouse? Or does it eat poisoned bait and go off to die somewhere and I have to look for it and find its dead body before it gets stinky?”

Dan: “Well now, yep, I believe the mouse will be visible in this one, and in that there one, and it’s been awhile since I’ve had to set any myself but what this one here will do will snap the mouse and kill it pretty much instantly, you won’t have to go lookin’ for it.”

Me: “Will there be guts?”

Dan: “Probly not, but there might be.”

Me: “Do you have anything that just traps the mouse without killing it?”

Dan: “Well now let’s see, we got this here mouse paper which’ll trap the mouse without killing it.”

Me: “The mouse sticks to the paper? How do I get it off?”

Dan: “Well, you can just kill the mouse after it gets stuck.”

Me: “So I will have to do the actual killing of the mouse?”

Dan: “Well, now some people just take the whole thing and throw it in the trash can.”

Me: “But…that’s…um…”

Dan: “Wudju excuse me, ma’m? I’ve got to go help this other customer.”

I stood there looking at Merrick. And he looked at me, with his big sad blue eyes. And he said, “Mom, will the mouse die?” I knew I did not have the heart to tell my kids that I killed any helpless animal in cold blood. I picked up a box of pre-baited traps and we sadly turned to leave.

And that’s when I saw them: the cage-traps on the other side of the aisle. Eur-freaking-eka. I snagged one and we got the heck out of there.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch, the mouse had been having a field day pooping all over kingdom come. It took me about 2 hours to get the trap in working order, but I finally figured it out. And then, the moment of truth came. I opened the door to Cheyenne’s room, quickly, and ever-so-gently, I set the trap on the floor by the dresser. Merrick and I left the room and closed the door behind us, waiting expectantly in the hallway for the clang of the metal door to sound, signaling the mouse’s defeat.

But it didn’t come. We cleaned the kitchen and waited. We played outside and gardened, and waited. And listened, and cleaned some more, and waited some more. Just before it was time to go pick up the girls, Merrick ran to me, screaming excitedly: “Mom! Mom! I hear the mouse! It’s in the cage! Can we please, please open the door now? Huh? Can we keep the mouse as a pet? Please????”

Sure enough, the mouse was in the cage. The doors of the cage were shut tight. The mouse was unharmed and hopelessly trapped. It pretended to be adorable but I knew better than to fall for the charms of that demonic creature, sent by Satan himself to wreak havoc on my sleep schedule and my sanity.

We loaded the cage into a box and toted the mouse (named: The Great Deceiver) to school with us. After picking up the girls, we swung by the park–the mouse’s new home. As soon as we opened the cage, it went leaping into the forest. I think it might have even cliff-dived into the creek, but I can’t be sure. All I know is that my kids think I’m a hero, the mouse is no longer in my house, and I didn’t even have to clean up so much as one gut.

Bet you didn’t know I could get down like that.

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About Toni

Mom. Wife. Artist. I take care of the kids and pretend to clean sometimes. I can cook spagetti and I have never been arrested. View all posts by Toni

One response to “Throw Your Hands Up At Me.

  • the wee small hours of the morning | FIGHTING INSANITY

    […] Got some great advice about the rodent issue that we may or may not have in the near future: Rat terriers! Apparently they kill rats–who knew? This is awesome news because I love dogs. Not sure about small dogs, but I’d be willing to try it because the only thing I hate more than a psychotic yappy little canine terrorist is a mouse, as evidenced here and here. […]

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