I
was watching TV the other night when suddenly, both dogs jumped up, ran out to
the kitchen and started growling at the refrigerator.
I
had no clue why the refrigerator was upsetting them. I started wondering if
maybe the chicken I’d bought earlier in the day had come back to life and was
walking around and clucking inside, or something equally as bizarre.
I
went out to the kitchen and noticed the dogs’ attention was riveted on the area
underneath the refrigerator. So, brave soul that I was, I pulled it away from
the wall. A tiny mouse scurried out and headed straight for the basement door,
then squeezed underneath it and disappeared.
Not
wanting to give the mouse any opportunity to return to the kitchen, I rolled up
a towel and stuffed it into the gap under the basement door. I then made a mental note to go to the
hardware store the first thing in the morning and buy a mousetrap…preferably
the non-kill variety.
An
hour later, my dog Eden, with the shredded remnants of the rolled-up towel
hanging out of her mouth, came trotting into the living room. I sensed it was
going to be a very long night.
I
wasn’t thrilled with the selection of non-kill mousetraps at the hardware store
the next morning. There were dozens of things that poisoned, maimed, flattened,
impaled and even exploded mice, but only one that didn’t cause pain or
suffering. It was an opaque-black plastic tube with a pull-out door on one
end. The door balanced on two thin
legs, which, when the mouse entered the trap, were supposed to collapse and
cause the door to shut, trapping the mouse inside.
I
brought the trap home, shoved some peanut butter into it, then set it on the
basement floor.
Later
that night, I checked the trap and noticed the door was shut. Something
obviously had dared to crawl inside.
The
problem was, because the trap was made of opaque black plastic, I couldn’t see
what I’d caught. For all I knew, it was some hideous subterranean creature
that, when I freed it, would leap up at my throat and tear out my jugular (OK,
so maybe I’ve been watching too many science-fiction movies lately).
I
carefully picked up the trap, stuffed it into a zip-close plastic bag and
zipped it shut. Then I carried it out to the car and drove about a half-mile up
the road to a snowmobile trail in the woods. I walked a short distance on the
trail and came to a big, flat rock. That was the perfect spot, I decided, to
release whatever was in the trap.
Carefully,
I removed the trap from the bag and set it down on the rock. Then I opened the
door on the end of it, stepped back and waited for my captive to emerge. Nothing happened. I gave the trap a nudge
with my foot. Still, nothing. Finally,
I gathered the courage to kneel down and peer inside, all the while fearing
something would jump out and sink its teeth into my nostrils.
The
trap was empty.
The
peanut butter I’d put inside was gone, and there were mouse droppings in the
trap – but no mouse – that is, unless it had figured out the secret of
invisibility.
I
drove home, muttering all the way and wondering how smart mice were. I mean,
would the mouse now stay away from the trap because it knew it was a trap? Or
would it go into it again, because it had figured out how to escape?
I
realized I had to find the old mousetraps, the clear acrylic ones I’d brought
from my old house, so I actually could see into the trap if I caught something.
Unfortunately, those traps were packed away somewhere in the basement…somewhere
in one of the gazillion boxes and plastic tubs down in the spider-filled
catacombs.
The
thought of sharing my kitchen. or even worse, my bed, with a mouse, however,
gave me the incentive to enter spider
territory and search. I found dog
collars in sizes that would fit everything from a Chihuahua to a St. Bernard. I
found my old ballet costumes, which looked as if they’d been in the midst of a
buffalo stampede. I found a pair of Lord of the Rings bookends featuring
Gandalf and Bilbo. And, after 30 minutes of searching, I found one of the clear
acrylic mousetraps. I had hoped to find at least two or three, just in case the
mouse had relatives, but at that moment, I was happy to find even one.
I
set up both the clear trap and the opaque one, then crossed my fingers and
waited for the mouse to try again.
The
next morning, I checked the traps. There was nothing in the clear one, but just
like the day before, the door was closed on the opaque one. I picked up the
trap and gently shook it. I didn’t hear or feel anything inside.
“Well,
I’m not going to drive an empty trap back to the woods like I did yesterday,” I
muttered. Still, just to be safe, I
took the trap out to the driveway to check it. I opened the door on it, once
again expecting to see nothing inside. To my surprise, a tiny mouse came
running out…and headed straight back toward my house.
I’m
beginning to get the sinking feeling I’m going to lose this war.
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