I was telling my wife about a delightful story, Conversations With A Cockroach, which led to the topic of household pests. She reminded me about a problem we had with mice years ago. When we first moved into our home there were many open fields and hence many mice. Gail is an animal lover, and no it doesn’t much matter what the animal is. If there were a humane society for mice she would apply for a job. But the mice problem was big uh, small uh; there were a lot of them. So she finally agreed to a trap. There was no way she would go for poisoning them knowing how they would suffer. The guillotine solution seemed most humane. So the traps were set.
We had just sat down for breakfast one morning a few days later when we heard a loud pop, or was it a snap, no doubt what it was. I said something insensitive like got the bastard. The mouse said eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee. Gail said oh poor mouse and ran over to the cabinet and peeked inside. The mouse was caught only by its tail, and was squealing and flopping around. I asked her if she would like me to put him out of his misery. All she could say was oh, oh oh. She reached down took the mouse in her hands and carefully opened the trap, (Don’t ask me how you carefully open a mouse trap) freeing the little fellow. She was whispering sweet nothings now. Poor little thing, oh I’m so sorry I hurt you. She took it outside and let him go. I sure hope we don’t have a problem with cockroaches because unlike Rouslan Karimov’s story, the cockroach would fare much better at our house. I can see it now three cats, one dog, a family of cockroaches and no roach motel.
