First rats, then hamsters and now we can add a mouse to my list of rodents killed by me

I am back. Please note this posting is not for the squeamish or those who value animal life over human life (tree hugging, animal loving, vegan moral morons). I do have tales of the Outlaws to tell (don't I always) though this one will be different. I have a better tale to tell today though (my world without commas). I take the Lad skating yesterday. It is the final public skate at the "local" indoor rink, though it is not so local and a rather convoluted drive to get there and back. Anyway, it had been too long since I was last on skates and even longer since I had my fucking skates sharpened. It was a good time had by the both of us. (Willie, I did run into your brother and his boys, which was funny. He had bought new skates so we both knew there was going to be pain. This was confirmed but he was carrying an additional 40 pounds as he was carrying the younger of his two boys. That could not have lessened the pain any).

We get home at about three. The Wife is at the door and in tears. I am thinking that something is wrong with one of the Outlaws. I get closer and she tells me she saw a mouse while she was on the computer upstairs. Now, I am thinking she is talking about the computer mouse. (haha) The Lad hears this, goes into hysterics and tries to get back into the locked car (like I would let that happen). Okay, now I have to go rodent hunting, since I am not sure if she is talking mouse or rat (either way, I am non too pleased). She tells me she saw it run into her closet, in the home office and then she ran to get the broom.

I start taking all the boot and shoe boxes out of the bottom of the closet but see nothing. It is not there. I then get to the old change table, whereupon I see a small, tailed brown thing scoot out of the room and under the door to the Lad's room. Now, the fun begins. I sit guard at the door and the Wife and Lad go to get some mouse traps. Nothing happens while they are gone. I clean up the bottom of a bookcase in the room and lay the traps. I figure that the fucker may come out while we are at my mother's for dinner. As it gets closer to five, I have a rethink. I do not want to come home to a dead mouse, worse yet, what if the traps have not been sprung?

The Wife gets smart and blocks the bottom of the door, so the thing cannot get out as it got in. I go to move the bed. I can find nothing under the bed and scratch my head. I had pulled the bed from the exterior wall, moved some of the crap under the bed and shined a flashlight but saw nothing. I am willing to let it get hungry, but try something new.

I go, with broom in hand, to move the bed away from the wall that separates the Lad's bedroom from ours. No sooner do I push the bed then I see something try to dart and dart over my foot. It was my friend, the mouse. He, or she, I did not try to determine the sex, tried to get under the door but was blocked. The, the thing tried to run along side the edge of the book case. Dumb creature, set off the trap and got its forepaws caught. It starts to squeak/squeal, presumably in pain. I then crack it with the broom a few times. It is hard to say. The Fog of War set in and I am screaming "Die! You Fuck!". I actually see wood from the trap cracking away and the little fucker was twitching.

It stopped but I was not sure if it were stunned or dead. Apparently, in my bed, the Lad was muttering "Kill the Fucker!" in earshot of the Wife. I was now unsure of how to get the thing out. I did not want to touch it for fear it was playing possum and was waiting for an opportunity to bite me. I then scooped it up with the dust pan and put it in a plastic bag, trap and all. I was going to drown it to makes sure it was dead. The Wife, pragmatic (of course, her buddhist leanings were not being compromised by killing a creature, so she had the luxury of these things) said to hit it with a brick. Why dirty up something else was her thought. She was cold, of course, it is easy to be when somebody else is doing the dirty work. Anyway, I dropped a brick on it a few times and then rained blow upon blow upon it. It was squished, so I figure it was dead.

Do dead rodents go into the garbage or the green bin? That is something that is not addressed in those city pamphlets. I figure it is bio-degradable so should go in with the compostable crap. That is how I see things.

So, February is dead hamster month and March, dead mouse. Last year, it was March as dead rat month. Kill the rodents! That is my motto and how I, apparently, live my life. I am not sure if that is good for my karma, but what do I know?

Enjoy the evening and ciao!