Wednesday, May 12, 2010


Anyone else enjoy this game in the sixties? It promoted the idea that catching mice was fun.
Well it's not.

Many of my friends have a mouse story to tell at the moment. Here, we've seen - and caught - the occasional intruder since the first one was sighted on Christmas Day, usually by setting traps over night and disposing of the body the next morning.
On Mothers Day I was sitting in the Comfy Chair reading when one brazen rodent trotted happily past, just a couple of feet away, and disappeared under the fridge.
I found a trap, baited it with a choc bit (cooking chocolate for the uninitiated) and went back to my book. A short time later, the mouse ended up with its head clamped in the trap.

But it didn't die. And this was the worst part. I was alone without backup, and worried it was going to escape and crawl under the fridge to die a slow and odorous death. I once killed a rat with a broom handle (because my boys were at risk) and was not keen to repeat the experience. I debated using the dust pan and brush to move it, trap and all, outside, admittedly to avoid having to witness its demise, but even as I moved closer to consider this, the poor creature gave its final death throes and passed into the rodent afterlife.

I found this really disturbing, and it put me in mind of a conversation with a young lad at work a few weeks ago who it seems "loves his shooting". Nothing better than a weekend with a gun and a few roos for target practice. When I expressed distaste he immediately trotted out the arguments about them being vermin, providing food etc.

But my issue is that people who shoot have no problem watching animals die. It doesn't matter why they're shooting, but that moment of watching a living, breathing creature suffer and become still, is not something anyone should relish.

I kill mice because I will not have them in the house and they haven't left when I've asked them nicely.

But I do not enjoy it.