The Rodent Relocator’s Dilemma

And don’t forget to hose it down between residents.

Once Stuart Little was gone, there was evidence of his kin thriving. I decided to break out the big guns: d-CON® Bait Pellets, “bait” being a euphemism for “murderous poison.” Only when I got to the store I came upon dCON’s version of a Havahart trap for mice. Who knew?

I lovingly placed a mini Fluffernutter®  inside, and by 3 a.m. someone was in lockdown; I sang him a lullaby and slept fitfully. Due to time constraints the next morning, I dropped him by the river courtside before a tennis match with a bunch of complete strangers, establishing myself right up front as a total nutter. When Stuart Little, Jr. was freed, he literally bounced across the grass (horribly, in the wrong direction) like a kangaroo. The point is this: he was in an absolute lather, wild-eyed, soaked in sweat and urine and Fluff, so traumatized he probably died soon after.

That evening, my housemate took this story in, weighed it, and responded with disgust at my sick cruelty:  “Just get a regular trap. They’ll never know what hit ’em.”

Sigh.

About uppervalleygirl

Columnist, bloggist, short storyist, essayist, novel-in-progressist.

Posted on July 23, 2012, in animals, humor, nature, rural, Uncategorized and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink. 1 Comment.

  1. Listen to your housemante. Avoid the poison – they will crawl back into the wall/basement/attic and die. The smell is unbearable in the summer heat.

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