Saturday, November 15, 2008


Today, I killed a mouse.

Never before have we had a problem with mice in our house, but this fall is a different story. This was number 6 to be annihilated over the past three months. I'm really hoping this is the last one.

Three nights ago, I was awakened at 1 a.m. to the sound of something clanging on the blinds in my bedroom. Followed shortly by a "gnaw, gnawing" on the wood window frame. Ugh! I knew it was the elusive mouse that had left a spattering of droppings for me to discover ON.MY.SHEET!! Gah!

So this afternoon I was getting ready to meet the ladies for knitting when I heard the trap snap. "Woo hoo!" I thought. "Gotcha!"

The snap was followed by a pitiful squeaking. I hurried over to the corner where the trap was set and saw the mouse biting at the trap, to no avail. It kept squealing trying to escape the jaws that held it so firmly in its grip.

I reached over and picked up the trap, thinking surely it will die soon. But it was still alive. I ran out to the garage with it, looking for a screwdriver to pry open the trap. I couldn't stand to see the mouse suffering. I found an electrical adapter plug and bending over the lawn, I pried the jaw open. The little mouse dropped the short distance to the ground and tried to run under the rosebush. But its back legs dragged uselessly behind it. Its back was broken.

The mouse, a soft, furry grey, looked so innocent as it lay on the grass. Dragging itself a few inches toward cover, it paused to rest, breathing rapidly. A few more inches, rest. Finally it curled up under a fallen maple leaf.

My heart was breaking as I watched it struggle.

I didn't feel so heroic anymore. Just really sad.