WARNING: The contents of this post are rather disturbing.
I'm serious. I can hardly refrain from uncontrollably sobbing whenever I think about it. The image of a most horrifying experience is permanently branded to my soul. And now I will share with you exactly what happened.
Several months ago, I became aware of a small problem within my house. Somewhere between the walls and in the attic was an occasional susurrus. An unwelcome creature was stirring about. I simply went on with my life ignoring whatever it was that it might be, hoping that it was just passing through.
As time went by, the frequency of this unidentified creature's raucous increased. I would wake from my sleep several times a week to it's cacophonous scampering within the bowels of my home. The likelihood for a best-case scenario decreased when it became clear that this creature was not going away. Whatever it was certainly enjoyed living with me. It was time to inform the landlords.
I told Patrick and Stephanie about my troubles one evening. They asked if I thought it was mice or rats, which is of huge concern to all of us. I explained that it sounded a bit larger and solitary like an armadillo or a opossum or a giant squid. I also made it clear that whatever it was, we were not to kill it. We would have to obtain some kind of innocuous trap that captured it. Then we could release it down the street so that it could live in someone else's house. Or better neighborly, in a field somewhere.
Ofcourse I would not condone killing this mysterious creature! Whatever it was surely had every right to exist as it fought for survival in this crazy mixed-up world just like me, even if we were, much to my chagrin, sharing a home together. I do my best not to kill anything senselessly. I don't even kill mosquitoes. Or spiders. Its unkarmicly sound to do so.
Due to my unconventional relationship with pests and my being swept up in preparation for the very ominous and swiftly approaching GRE test, I became passively ambivalent regarding the issue. Therefore, no actions were taken. Though troubling, I continued to ignore it.
Until I finally encountered just what it was that I was co-existing with.
One early morning in the beginning stages of my pre-work preparation routine, it was still dark in my kitchen when I barely noticed a fast moving, furry blur dart across my kitchen floor and hide behind the hot water heater. It was a mouse. It was cute, but I knew this was not good news. Especially when finding mice in the kitchen became a daily occurrence. And even more disconcerting when they began having nightly "poop festivals" in my kitchen.
I alerted Patrick and Stephanie again. We all agreed that we needed to take control of this situation, especially if the mice were reproducing which if not already likely, was only a matter of time. We reviewed the options:
What I was campaigning for was something to the affect of this -
Except imagine some mice in there, instead of a squirrel.
One idea that was hands down out of the question -
Truly there cannot be a more horrible fate than this torture, a slow and sticky fate. I found little solace in the swift conventional traps which also seemed virulently cruel and messy.
Also, in no way was I going to poison the mice. Not only could they then potentially die inside the walls initiating any number of putrid consequences, but I am particularly against bringing any noxious chemicals into my house. I don't even have any bleach.
Another option I considered briefly was The Circle of Life:
Its quixotic and unrealistic since I am not too inclined to sharing my house with a cat or its hair either.
S & P seemed to find "the perfect" solution at the local hardware store. The ultra-sonic rodent repeller, if it worked would get rid of the problem without actually having to deal with it.
Unfortunately, it didn't work. I could easily tell because I found two mice frolicking in my bag of recyclables placed directly beneath where this device was plugged into the kitchen. Even if it was exuding some manner of indiscernible electromagnetic wave, it in no way discouraged the mice from pooping all over my kitchen.
The situation was getting out of control. I even found a mouse in my front (avocado) room - three rooms away from the kitchen, which until then was the only part of my actual living space that I found them in. Suddenly, my home was infested and unsanitary. I stopped cooking at home. I spent a week eating out, which is not at all in my budget. We couldn't find any traps anywhere that would not harm the mice. Something needed to be done, even if it was drastic.
We got these:
These quick set, easy release, reusable (though the concept disturbs me), snapping mouse traps were obviously not ideal. I succumbed to them because I had no other options and with that, I also surrendered to any karmic repercussions this might bestow upon me.
I attempted to ameliorate this onerous task by placing the traps in large paper shopping bags. This way I could easily dispose of the carcass and the trap without having to witness any of its gory surprise. I spread a lump of peanut butter as recommended by the package as bait. I would come home and carefully glance into the bags to notice if they had performed their sordid deeds.
After several days of nothing - no sightings, no midnight murmurs, no new poop, empty traps - I was beginning to think that karma would let me off the hook. Perhaps the mice had left, now that I had stopped cooking. I was reluctantly hopeful, but also entirely incorrect in thinking that karma would not rear its ugly head.
The backlash was harsh and unforgiving.
Last night I returned home at around midnight from Thanksgiving festivities. I was having a lively conversation on my cellphone with a friend. I entered my kitchen immediately to put the heap of leftovers into my fridge. I barely noticed a quiet clicking sound that at first thought might be the hot water heater doing what it does. I turned on the light to investigate the unusual sound.
Suddenly I let out a distressed bellow. The sweet, karmic revenge unfolded. Beside my back door, on the far side of the kitchen from the paper bag was not one, but two mice. Two curious and innocent creatures suffering immensely. Both of their heads were trapped in the powerful clamp of the small plastic trap. Given that they were unfortunately still alive, they were exigently doing all they could to survive, which was undoubtedly futile.
That horrible image of those poor beings, flopping about my kitchen floor - poignantly reminiscent of a fish out of water - will live with me forever. Not only did my plan for a swift, easy solution backfire, but adversely I had to confront an unfathomable situation. I still had to get them out of my house!
No living being deserves that kind of treatment. But I deserved the retribution - another sleepless night - not caused by that familiar uttering of rodentia, but instead inflamed with guilt by my inflicted pain and suffering, and the inability to cope with the task of saving them. The most I could do was sweep them into the trash can, and throw them away. Perhaps if it was just one mouse, I might have been able to muster up an ability to help it, but the two of them...was entirely too unexpected and unpalatable.
I'm really not sure where this leaves me. Is the mice problem solved? Are there more of them? Will karma continue to fire back? Have I learned my lesson? Is the solution now to just peacefully try to co-exist with my furry, squeaky house mates? Will their friends spark revenge?
Though writing about it has been somewhat of a catharsis, this has been extremely traumatic. All I can hope for is that those of you who have somehow managed to stomach this blog post will take from it that all life is sacred - worthy of our love and respect. In the end we're no different. We can all only hope to die in peace, dignity, and enveloped in the satisfaction that we never had to witness two mice suffer as unconscionably as I did.
