Guilty of mouse murder

I checked the trap around 7 AM today. I could see, in the shadows behind the fridge, that the yellow bar had dropped, meaning the trap had been sprung. I turned the light on, and there was a poor little mouse in the trap, dead. We all know mice are dirty, stinking vermin. They're destructive, and spread diseases that are harmful, even fatal, to humans. So why do I feel so guilty? Heck, I even feel guilty every time I mash a fly, and I hate those things more than mice. Oh well, it's done now.

One amusing little aside to the mouse incident, arrived in the form of yet another Wayne-ism. I told my dopey cousin about the mouse. Guess what Wayne said? 'Aw. At least it's only a cute little mouse. It could be worse'. 'Yes', I said. 'In a couple of weeks time, when one mouse has become a dozen, it'll be a lot worse'.

Wayne has only owned one pet in his whole life. Many years ago, he had a little pet mouse called Ifor Bach (Welsh for Little Ivor). Well, Wayne used to let Ifor Bach out of his cage, to enjoy a run around the bedsit he then lived in. The trouble with that, is that Wayne would then have great trouble locating and re-caging Ifor Bach. So, inevitably, the mouse vanished one day, a week or so before Wayne was due to move to a new flat. He assumed the mouse had exited via the window, and perished. So, he headed off to his new flat.

About a month later, Wayne and I were in the Uplands Tavern, during the days when it was known as Streets. His ex-landlord came up to us. 'What was that mess you left in the bedsit, Wayne? There was even a bl**dy mouse running around in there'. Luckily, the ex-landlord realised it was a pet mouse, caught it and found it a home. Or so he said. I'm not so sure, as I always thought that man had very shifty eyes. Still, I can't condemn him, mouse murderer as I am.

I'm now so paranoid, I'm going to re-bait and re-set the trap tonight. I'm not expecting to find another mouse in rigor mortis. Blinking well hope not, anyway. If I do, I will officially declare myself a skank, and have a sign made for my front door, which says 'Welcome to Skanksville'. Funny how one little mouse can leave someone feeling so paranoid and unclean.

Oh well. Laters....

MOUSE!!!

Help! Leo clambered in through the kitchen window in the wee hours, with a live mouse. He appeared outside my bedroom window, with a wriggling mouse in his jaws, so I ignored him. I had no idea the kitchen window was open.

The evil, vile rodent is now running around my house. Last seen scuttling under my fridge. I think I'm on the verge of a major coronary. Or a nervous breakdown. I need to go for a pee, but I have to go through the kitchen to get to the bathroom. What the eff do I do? Pee in a flower vase?

Knickers to humane extermination. I'm off to town for some lethal mousetraps. Ugh. I feel really, really unclean. Serves me right for forgetting to close the window. It's the first time in years I've forgotten to close it at night, simply because I know what Leo's like for bringing live prey home. I feel sick. My home has a verminous little sh*t running around it. And a mouse! I'm afraid Alfie's going to find himself on his own for an hour or two. I MUST get me a mousetrap.

I don't WANT to kill the mouse. I really don't. Even though it's vile vermin, it's not actually its fault that it's vile vermin. But mice are dangerous. They're filthy, full of disease, and like to start house fires by chewing through cables. In my eyes, that makes them tiny, hairy little terrorists.

Do humane mousetraps work? Probably not. I've looked on the Wilkinson site, and they sell traps that allegedly kill instantly. If I stick one behind the fridge, my zoo can't get at it, but the mouse will smell the bait. I really don't want to commit mousicide. But one mouse soon becomes an army. Sorry, mouse. It's me or you, and I'm too big to fit in the trap.

Damn you, mouse. Why are you making me kill you? I have such a guilt trip on at the moment.