Datebook: Monday, August 21st ~ 2006
I came to spend the night with my daughter to have a little quality time before school and the demands of skating come front and center.
So I can explain why I am up at 4:00 am.
It is true that it is difficult to sleep in a full size bed with a person who is used to sleeping alone, especially when that person throws her firmly toned arm over your head in the middle of night reminding you that you did not spend those hours in the gym this summer.
But, what kept me hovering at the edge of sleep were the ticking of that 5.00 yard sale clock and the scurrying sounds of “the mouse”.
The mouse is not a pet that was brought here from home by either of the girls who live in this apartment. My daughter comes from a typical cat and dog background and her roommate had a feline companion. (Neither of these girls ever cleaned the yard or a litter box I might add). No, this fuzzy dynamo is living under the stove without the added 30.00 per month security deposit.
His presence will not generate the same feeling that Michael Jackson had when he penned “Ben”.
The girls don’t want to buy this one a toy convertible per Stuart Little.
Okay, it’s not that we are anti-traditional pet people. In other circumstances I could have a lion or tiger of my own, I love big cats. Good friends of mine own several snakes, lizards and other things in cages that I dump crickets and frozen mice to when they go on vacation—okay, okay I do close my eyes as I do it and hum really loud, but I take care of them! (So you don’t think my friends are weird, the big lizard is named RuPaul because without the wig their heads look the same. Okay, even if you still think they are weird, you have to admit they have a sense of humor.)
So not liking this mouse is not a prejudice against non-traditional pets. It is a prejudice against free-range rodents.
The girls wanted to evict this free-loader.
Okay. The methods are pretty straight-forward. Traps or poison. We went to look at the implements of battle at the hardware store.
There are three kinds of traps. One is baited and has a huge bar that snaps across, crushing the little mouse body. This seemed so Louis XV without the blade and a bit barbaric. The girls were horrified that they would have to retrieve the body and look at the evidence of their cruelty.
The second type of trap uses some type of super glue; the mouse is lured onto the sticky pad and then cannot get free. This produced two concerns—what if they got this stuck to their own hands as they set it up, and would the mouse scream and whimper when caught? Since we would also have to deal with the body again, although in this scenario perhaps a sad, live body, we passed on this method also.
The third trap seemed idea at first glance. The mouse is lured into this black box, the door is slammed shut and the mouse cannot escape. You can pick up the box and discard it. So, we debated the humane issues involved, trapping a living creature and discarding it to starve to death in a small dark prison. There was also the issue of who would carry a box containing a squirming mouse to the dumpster….
I think you see the trend.
Poison was also judged and ruled inhumane, and still leaving a body that needs to be discarded.
So I can explain why I am up at 4:00 am.
It is true that it is difficult to sleep in a full size bed with a person who is used to sleeping alone, especially when that person throws her firmly toned arm over your head in the middle of night reminding you that you did not spend those hours in the gym this summer.
But, what kept me hovering at the edge of sleep were the ticking of that 5.00 yard sale clock and the scurrying sounds of “the mouse”.
The mouse is not a pet that was brought here from home by either of the girls who live in this apartment. My daughter comes from a typical cat and dog background and her roommate had a feline companion. (Neither of these girls ever cleaned the yard or a litter box I might add). No, this fuzzy dynamo is living under the stove without the added 30.00 per month security deposit.His presence will not generate the same feeling that Michael Jackson had when he penned “Ben”.
The girls don’t want to buy this one a toy convertible per Stuart Little.
Okay, it’s not that we are anti-traditional pet people. In other circumstances I could have a lion or tiger of my own, I love big cats. Good friends of mine own several snakes, lizards and other things in cages that I dump crickets and frozen mice to when they go on vacation—okay, okay I do close my eyes as I do it and hum really loud, but I take care of them! (So you don’t think my friends are weird, the big lizard is named RuPaul because without the wig their heads look the same. Okay, even if you still think they are weird, you have to admit they have a sense of humor.)
So not liking this mouse is not a prejudice against non-traditional pets. It is a prejudice against free-range rodents.
The girls wanted to evict this free-loader.
Okay. The methods are pretty straight-forward. Traps or poison. We went to look at the implements of battle at the hardware store.
There are three kinds of traps. One is baited and has a huge bar that snaps across, crushing the little mouse body. This seemed so Louis XV without the blade and a bit barbaric. The girls were horrified that they would have to retrieve the body and look at the evidence of their cruelty.
The second type of trap uses some type of super glue; the mouse is lured onto the sticky pad and then cannot get free. This produced two concerns—what if they got this stuck to their own hands as they set it up, and would the mouse scream and whimper when caught? Since we would also have to deal with the body again, although in this scenario perhaps a sad, live body, we passed on this method also.
The third trap seemed idea at first glance. The mouse is lured into this black box, the door is slammed shut and the mouse cannot escape. You can pick up the box and discard it. So, we debated the humane issues involved, trapping a living creature and discarding it to starve to death in a small dark prison. There was also the issue of who would carry a box containing a squirming mouse to the dumpster….
I think you see the trend.
Poison was also judged and ruled inhumane, and still leaving a body that needs to be discarded.
And so these skating girls live with ‘the mouse’.
My insomnia was inspired by my thoughts at 4:00. Why would a mouse choose to live in this apartment on Luna bar crumbs? Surely he smelled the brownies that were baked in the apartment below us last night. A mouse that chooses to live licking trashed yogurt lids and granola is a scary creature.
At 4 am the imagination can take over. A mouse that is making better life choices is just a little too much to endure so I get up to turn on the light.
Ben II cannot stand light. Especially the unhealthy fluorescent kitchen bulb!
In the morning, well, in the more traditional morning, I will call the apartment manager. I believe they have a program to relocate apartment mice and I’ll make sure the girls get put on the list.
In the mean time, we’ll be going out for breakfast.
Mombo #9
posted by ice-dance.com @ 6:42 AM
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