Warning: The following entry involves graphic depictions of a real murder. You have been warned
Oh, I nearly forgot to give you the update in the ‘mouse v. mouse chronicles.
In a classic example of “if you aren’t willing to kill it, you have no right to eat it” (or something like that) I’m innocently changing the oil in the car on Sunday afternoon when ‘mrs. comes and excitedly tells me to “come quickly.” She and the kids have the Big Mouse cornered under a bookshelf and they “want me to do something about it.”
Here’s where someone should have thought fast and made me sign over video rights.
I grab a broom and the skimmer net from the swimming pool and Go In to Do Battle.
To my great surprise, I actually trap the aforementioned Big Mouse in the net.
Figuring aforementioned Big Mouse should not be out in the daytime, hiding semi-exposed under the bookshelf and moving slowly enough for me to catch him, I determine to dispatch him to the Great White Peachfield in the sky. With the only implement handy: a shoe.
No. I don’t feel particularly proud of this near cannibalistic version of rodentcide. But it did bring about a very hands-on end to our battle that somehow seemed more just and proper than the cold snap of a trap in the night.
If you aren’t willing to look ridiculous in front of your family while killing a mouse with your bare hands favorite sneaker, you have no right to kill it at all?