Mice
I was telling my wife about the 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.
Comments
I dont know if you read shannoncampbell.info but shannon put up a great post about her fear of bugs. Get your wife to read it :)
Just read the post ruzz refers to. It begins,
So I'm watching TV today (The Quick and the Dead, the one with Sharon Stone) and a commercial comes on for some nice, pleasant-smelling laundry detergent. I'm laying on the couch, kind of zoning out, when a roach crawls across the television screen.
I immeditely jump up and start hyperventilating, trying to find a shoe or a sturdy magazine - anything that I could use as a weapon that would not require me to get too close to this minion of hell, this filthy creature, this roach. I actually break out into a sweat, when suddenly
Its entitled Phobias Revisited here is the link for those who are interested.
Had a problem here with chipmonks getting into our basement last year. Live trapped them, drove 3 miles up the highway and released them. That was then, now I have a cat :-) Trouble is he brought one of them into the house yesterday as a present - thank you Riley :-)
When I lived in Indiana, I found three abandoned baby raccoons in an old flue at work, so I brought them home and nursed them back to health. After giving two of them to friends, I kept the smallest and weakest one because he needed more attention and care. After a while, he grew stronger and started taking over my house. Since I am a wimp and indulge the ones I love too much (my women, pets, family, etc), my raccoon became a spoiled brat and damn near destroyed all my furniture. I started calling him "Damien" like the anti-Christ kid in "The Omen." But he was so damned cute! And, of course, every gal I brought home fell in love with him. However, my little devil grew too wild and nutty, so I had to release him into the wild.
If my house were infested by roaches, I am sure I would give them all names and leave out Ben & Jerry's ice cream for them to devour every night. I think I have a serious problem loving live beings too much.