Or: how an Idealist evolves into a Pragmatist through better living with(out) mice. Or: in which we witness a Hippie progress into Geezerhood.
You’ll need this image for later:
Live and Let Live:
- Attitude: all life is created equal, and should be honored. (Plus they are cute.)
- Ohm. I am One With The Mouse. Ohmmmmm…
- Begining of change in attitude: are those…fleas…?
Live and Let Go:
- Attitude: I am Holier than Thou.
- I start The Mouse Relocation Program. I trap the mice in humane traps, and rehome them into nature, driving them an hour – one way – to a heavily wooded area (with no houses).
- I hum “Born Free”. Lift tiny plastic doors: go into the wild little creatures!
- Strangely, I have to shake most of them out. They hang on to domesticity with tenacity.
Live and Regroup:
- Attitude: Uh Oh. Hanta virus.
- I’m getting cranky about de-mousing my house 4 at a time, driving an hour detour before work. It doesn’t appear to be making any dent. And I keep forgetting to apply mascara at 5 am. Not professional.
Live and start Justifying:
- Attitude: chauffeuring mice back to nature is not my life’s passion. Who knew?
- All life is created equal, but all life doesn’t have to live in my house.
- Beginning of change in attitude: a mouse bit me when I set it free. Ungrateful little bugger. I HAD to grab it by the tail and yank, it was clinging to the box screaming “NO NO NO…take me HOME.”
- Of course it’s cold and damp. It’s the freakin’ WILD.
Live and Let Die:
- Attitude: FYI? Thou is waaay Holier than I. Jane: Rodent Hunter.
- I search the hardware store for a product I am certain should exist: poison that will mushroom cloud when approached by mouse, and vaporize mouse instantly.
- I am puzzled: all I see are old-fashioned spring-loaded mouse traps. No one has invented a better mouse trap? Seriously?
- The old-fashioned traps either slice the mouse in half, or pin them mutilated and somewhat alive to a wooden board. I don’t care about the violence. I care that I have to clean up the blood and guts.
I bought mouse traps that can’t poison the dog, if the mouse, after eating the bait, runs around like a tempting play thing. Instructions: bait traps with peanut butter, the mouse enters, and WHAMMO, it’s trapped inside. Then you throw them away. Tidy.
When I check the traps the next morning? Nothing.
I text Daisy.
Jane: bought a butt load of pet-safe mouse traps. Nada. They had all night.
Daisy: what did you use for bait?
Jane: Reese’s peanut butter cups. 2 trick or treaters. Still have $50 of candy left.
Daisy: You got two? I only got one. Shoot.
Daisy: Wait. Peanut butter cups? CANDY?
Jane: It said use peanut butter? Figured a peanut butter cup would be irresistible…rite?
Daisy: Um. I think we’re projecting. That’s you.
Jane: Oh. True.
Daisy: We need professionals.
Jane: Maybe I can ask Larry? He’ll know how to nuke ’em wo killing dog…
30 seconds later Daisy texts me again:
Daisy: Larry said yes.
Jane: Yes, what?
Daisy: he’ll come tomorrow.
Jane: Sunday? Day off. Cruel?
Daisy: Shaun with gasoline, or Larry tomorrow?
Daisy: Toss the peanut butter cups. You know you want them.
Jane: Drat. I was kinda going with a half for me, half for the mouse kind of thing…
Daisy: Why did I know this…?
I’m insanely relieved we do not have skunks in the house.
I wonder if Larry likes peanut butter cups…?
You know, to thank him.