The Dreaded Mouse

I do believe I've taken photography in a new direction... downward, perhaps. I realize that there is absolutely nothing redeeming about this photo. Composition. Yuck. Lighting. Yuck. However, that just isn't the point. I took a zillion pictures trying to get one with the little green light blinking. I finally got one, so please cut me a little slack and know that I appreciate your sensibilities.


I know I've written on this subject before, but it seems to be a cycle... one I don't like at all. I do believe that someone runs into the critter world the first day of fall and hangs a sign out that says 'Get Inside Now!'

Obedient to the forces of nature, those little mousie critters head for the nearest entrances and get ready to spend a comfortable winter. That may not be entirely true, but it is life as I see it.

I've battled the battle before. I've stuffed steel wool around every pipe and crevice. Still... they come. I didn't use to have this battle, but I do now, and I HATE it!!!

I'm really a tad ashamed to admit that this whole sharing my house with a mouse puts me into a spin of emotion. I can't set a trap... not one of those snappy things. Son Right Back has done that for me before, but he isn't always available to do that little chore. Oh, this does qualify big time as one of the Men's Work items... not something I want to do... definitely for the Men.

I guess I'm squeamish or something, but I just can't deal with the mice very well. I'd certainly rather face the holly shrub than the mouse.

A couple of years ago, I invested in an electronic mouse trap. Seriously, there is such a thing. It's that little black box in the photo of the day. I see it as a more humane form of execution. It is instant, just as the snappy kind, and it should be easier for me to dispose of the remains. Note the word 'should' here.

So, I armed the electronic mouse trap and put it in a darkened area of the pantry. It is most effective at night when the house is quiet and the mouse is ready for action. The mouse should smell the peanut butter, head into the hole in the trap, and be zapped into mouse heaven.

My job is to check the trap in the morning. That's one of those things that makes me know what a coward I really am. I open the pantry door, look at the trap, and hold my breath in expectation of a blinking light. If the light is blinking, I have a mouse. The thing is, I'm always relieved when no light blinks. Then I don't have to go into mouse flinging mode. This morning, the light blinked, which means I have to deal with it.

I've been wondering if Right Back might appear this morning (wishful thinking). I have things to do, you know. There is bagging all that holly shrubbery from yesterday. Then I need to cut more shrubbery. I just don't know when I'm going to have time for mouse flinging. I need help... I need staff. Oh, Man Adam, where art thou?

I know I've got to face the fact that once again I'm left to my own devices. I'm going to have to screw my courage to the sticking point (a Shakespearean knockoff) and carry the trap outside. Then I have to turn off the unit with the switch, open the door, and fling the mouse behind the craft house. It takes a little wrist action.

One year I overdid the wrist action and ended up flinging the whole trap. The door covering the batteries flew off and under the craft building. No way was I sticking my hand under there to retrieve the door! Nothing but having that door in place would make the trap work, so I had to go buy another electronic trap. I did TRY to retrieve the door with a stick and a pulling motion. I only ended up pushing it further under the building where I was sure I wasn't putting my hand.

Well, here it is almost seven o'clock in the morning, and I have my work cut out for me today. I must fling the mouse and bag the shrubbery. I'm not sure which I will do first. One thing is for sure... I plan on showing my Man Cat Pumpkin what I have done. I want him to see that mouse and have a new respect for my hunting capabilities. Something good has GOT to come out of this.