Readers of my blog may remember I had a showdown with a rogue squirrel in my apartment last year. Recently I had another houseguest: a mouse. Less concerting for sure, but the rodent trend is unwelcome to say the least.
First thing I did was set regular mousetraps. In order to be thorough I set three in the kitchen, putting peanut butter on each one as bait. I’m not sure why mice prefer peanut butter, but that’s what everyone tells me to use as bait. How did cheese get a superior rep a mouse snack when they clearly prefer peanut butter? I don’t know, and I didn’t do the research to find out why. Let’s chalk it up to lobbyists from Big Cheddar lining the pockets of the media.
Anyway, I put peanut butter on three traps. The next morning I woke up to find all the traps still set NO PEANUT BUTTER ON THEM. That’s right, friends: the mouse had licked all the traps clean without being caught. Per New York City law, I’ve now added him to the lease. He gets to use my office as a bedroom, have guests over whenever, and gets to kick me out of the living room whenever he wants to watch TV. I don’t like it? Too bad. Maybe I should go grab a light snack from the jaws of pure death, then we can talk.
You have to give the mouse respect now. He ate the bait on three traps and didn’t break a sweat. My only concern now, is he coming for my girl next? Am I going to catch them out at a bar having a drink? She’s laughing, looking around all nervous, clearly knowing she’s wrong to be there but still intrigued by this oddly buff mouse? Meanwhile he sees me spotting them, smirks at me then does a quick head shake to get me to leave. And somehow, even though I’m incensed, I do.
Or maybe the next logical step is he’ll set a trap for me. I’m setting more traps in the kitchen when I notice a box, propped up with a crude stick, with a glob of peanut butter on the floor under it. “Did I leave this peanut butter out? Well whatever, it still looks good, don’t want to let it go to waste.” Then next thing you know him and his mouse family are roasting me on a spit with an apple in my mouth.
The regular traps didn’t work, so I ordered some humane traps. This made me feel better because I certainly don’t want to hurt a defenseless animal if I can help it. And there’s good news here: the trap was definitely humane. It was so humane, it didn’t even catch the mouse. It worked so poorly, I’m pretty sure it was designed by mice. I just imagine a bunch of mice in labcoats, doing experiments on this thing to make sure it doesn’t work. “Yeah we’ll market this towards pussies who don’t want to hurt us, meanwhile we’ll eat all the peanut butter and steal all their girls. This is genius, I’m telling you.”
When you set a humane trap for a mouse and it doesn’t work, you quickly go from wanting to catch the mouse humanely to wanting to kill it at all costs. I got so frustrated I thought of Googling, “How would you waterboard a mouse” the other day. I didn’t, but I thought about it.
In all seriousness I wouldn’t have it in me to hurt an animal. I can’t stand people who use glue traps. That’s what the guy from Saw uses when he has a mouse. Every one should come with a knife the mouse can use to cut his leg off to escape…only to find his mouse family tied up in some kind of death machine, forcing him into an impossible no-win decision.
I’ve let the humane traps out for a couple weeks now with nothing turning up, so I think the mouse is gone. At least I hope it is. You can’t really relax with a mouse in the house. It’s just irresponsible. You’re basically telling yourself, “I’m cool with minor squalor.” From there it’s just a few short steps away from a family of raccoons taking over the apartment. Then maybe one of THEM will steal my girl. It’s a vicious cycle.
Basically, this mouse dredged up a lot of fears I have over wild animals stealing my girl. I need to invest in some plywood and take my girl out to fancier restaurants.