I woke yesterday morning to a mouse in my home. I knew I had a mouse because my cats were in hunting mode. The two cats were hunched at the end of my sofa, waiting for the mouse to make a move. The mouse, as luck would have it, ended up hiding under a heat register directly behind where I sit each morning watching Donald Trump’s giant orange face on the news.
I retrieved a flashlight and stretched out on the floor so I could see under the sofa. Peering under the sofa, I saw the mouse hiding there behind it. Not wanting to move furniture to get the mouse, I grabbed a broom. I thought I would try to chase the mouse out toward my 40 pound of cats.
Carmel vanished once he saw me with the broom.
Just me and Splash now.
The instant I extended the broom under the sofa, the mouse started heading out toward Splash. Then, just before I pushed the mouse out into full light, Splash jumped up and ran off to the dining room. “Where are you going?” I yelped. “I thought we were working this together!”
Naturally, the mouse popped out from under the sofa and started ping-ponging between the wall, a rocking chair, a floor speaker, and one of those sticky spider traps you place against the wall. The trap was easily big enough for the mouse to enter (see photo). After a brief skirmish, I finally managed to slap the mouse against the floor with the broom.
Splash watched me with total disinterest as I picked the mouse up by the nape of its neck and carried it outside for live release. “Thanks for your help,” I told Splash.
Several hours later, as I watched Splash walk into the kitchen, I detected something odd about his gait. When I walked over to investigate, I found that Splash had managed to get caught-up in the spider trip. It was attached to his flank.
I bent down and worked to free Splash (and a considerable mass of hair) from the trap.
“Pathetic,” I said to him. “Simply pathetic.”