The problem started very innocently. My cat, The Great and Powerful Phoebe ("fee-bee"), started showing some interest in one of her 200 unused toys. A little stuffed mouse with an opening in the top to insert catnip. Or
Ferrero Rocher. I came downstairs one morning to find the toy in the middle of the floor. Phoebe looked so proud (
I'm a real cat, now!).
A mere two days later, it happened. I heard her JUMP off the couch (she weighs about 16 pounds, it makes the whole house shake) and run towards the door. I peaked around the corner to admire her new pretend play capabilities, and much to my horror, she was standing, teeth poised, over a real, live rodent. I didn't get a good glimpse, secondary to the hysterical blindness caused by my shrill screaming. I jumped on a kitchen chair, screaming and immediately called a friend. Still screaming, I tried to convince him to come over and exterminate. His wife tried to calm me down, which angered me to no end. I NEED HELP! MAYDAY! I AM LOSING IT!! I still am not speaking to her because of this.
Four little feet jetted across the living room, followed by my slow, obese cat. More screaming ensued. After three phone calls, 45 minutes of kitchen-chair-standing and one minor heart palpitation when it scurried over my running shoes, I worked up enough courage to tiptoe across the kitchen chairs, grab my keys and leap out the back door. I escaped. Then I picked up 10 of the most powerful, killing machines I have ever purchased. Well, mostly ones with a lot of plastic so I didn't have to actually SEE the critter, once captured.
In one of the most difficult moments of my life, I carefully baited and set each trap in mousey hot spots. Phoebe, breathless and asthmatic at this point, sprawled out on the rug and watched.
The next morning, sadly, all of the traps were empty. I went away to work, with baited breath, and a Gladiator mouse arena in my apartment. The mice had to die, but special Phoebe had to be protected from the traps as well. It took much thought and planning, the killing did.
I arrived home, and excitedly checked all the traps. My most prized trap, in the mousiest area...was MISSING! Let me just tell you, don't Google 'missing mouse trap.' I then became quite certain that I had both a mouse problem, and a mouse/mousetrap-eating snake problem. More screaming ensued, as did a call to my landlord. However, it was late, no one was home, and I simply put out another trap and went to bed.
You guessed it, ANOTHER trap went missing. One absolutely impossible to be reached by The Great and Powerful (wheeze, wheeze) Phoebe. At that moment, I was absolutely one hundred percent convinced that somewhere, in my house was a 3-foot rat with two traps attached to its fleshy white body. I called my landlord again and demanded that someone come over. Now.
When Frank, the maintenance man came over, he laughed and said in all the years he's worked here, he has never SEEN a mouse. Sure, whatever, that's what they all say. He pulled the dishwasher out from behind the wall, as this is where the first trap went missing. I started calling moving companies, to get me out of this expensive rat hole. Frank, belly flat on the floor, pants way too low for my comfort said, "Ah ha. Here's the trap. But no mouse....oh, uh, well, not
all of the mouse..." I closed my eyes, threw my arm over my head, just like an old Southern Belle and said "Oh, come quickly, Jesus!" Frank went to move the stove, and I jumped on the kitchen chair, poised and ready for him to find the rat nest with lots of rat babies.
:::screech::: The stove said. I was hyperventilating and drinking vodka out of a mug at this point.
"Uh oh" Frank said. "I was afraid this might be the case. You won't believe who's back here."
"Who? WHO!? Al Capone? Paul Anca? Templeton from
Charlotte's Web? My gosh, man! Spit it out!"
Frank reached down to pick something up, and then, sort of cradled it in his hands. "Well, that's a shame. I hate to tell you this, but you trapped your neighbor boy's pet mouse. See the coloring. He's brown, with a white belly. Went missin' not too long back now."
And this kind, loving, gentle Pediatrician said, "Good. Put him in dumpster please."