Fall at our home always means the pitter patter of little feet. I heard them this past Monday, at exactly 5:18 am. This is not the sound of people feet mind you, but different little feet. The sound was like nails on a chalkboard, or Chinese water torture. Little tiny mouse teeth chewing through my walls. I don’t know if my house has an invisible 3 inch tall “come on in, you’ll LOVE it here” sign in front of it or what, but they always come with the first frost of the season. Last Fall I had 6 of them – just when I thought I got the last one, out popped another one, leaving their droppings on my pantry floor and across every shelf, and taking a nibble out of every single thing that didn’t come housed in an aluminum can. I suppose it comes with the territory of living in the country, but it’s still unnerving to think of these little rodents bringing their germs and potential illnesses into the house. Instead of imagining my beautiful children asleep in their beds, I envision little mice running across their bedding, spreading illness to their granola bars, and leaving mouse droppings in the Frosted Flakes box.
The part I struggle with most is the biblical commandment #6: Do not kill. Last year, we had to use multiple methods to get rid of the entire mouse family. We used the green pellets, the snap-you-in-the-head old fashioned traps, the humane, no-kill traps (which are only humane because they don’t actually work) and sticky traps. The sticky traps are the worst because, while they work WONDERFULLY, I still have to go back later and “finish the job”. And here’s where I get stuck. Filled with guilt, I perform my usual sticky trap ritual of loading the mouse du jour into the Wal-mart bag, and then double bag. We walk out to the driveway together, the bags crinkling with every step, and the poor mouse I’m sure, wondering what is going on. I then place the poor thing on the ground right in front of the left tire, get in, and run the bag over with my minivan several times, asking forgiveness the entire time.
The part I struggle with most is the biblical commandment #6: Do not kill. Last year, we had to use multiple methods to get rid of the entire mouse family. We used the green pellets, the snap-you-in-the-head old fashioned traps, the humane, no-kill traps (which are only humane because they don’t actually work) and sticky traps. The sticky traps are the worst because, while they work WONDERFULLY, I still have to go back later and “finish the job”. And here’s where I get stuck. Filled with guilt, I perform my usual sticky trap ritual of loading the mouse du jour into the Wal-mart bag, and then double bag. We walk out to the driveway together, the bags crinkling with every step, and the poor mouse I’m sure, wondering what is going on. I then place the poor thing on the ground right in front of the left tire, get in, and run the bag over with my minivan several times, asking forgiveness the entire time.
Scholars argue whether the commandment translates to “do not commit 1st degree human murder” or “do not kill any living thing”. Based on the terrible feeling I get when I slip into the driver’s seat, I’d say it’s the latter. On the other hand, I know God understands my desire to keep my children free from harm, and keep my home free from potentially disease-bearing critters. I know he also understands that the only reason I perform my ritual is not out of satisfaction, but because I want to put the little guy out of his misery the fastest and most sure way possible.
I wish that the little guys would just climb into their humane traps but so far that’s only happened once, when one critter stood right in the middle of my floor (frozen in shock?) and allowed me to pick him up, drop him into a tupperware container with a block of cheese, drive him several miles away and deposit him at the base of a tree in the woods. But since those types of mice are few and far between, and I’m allergic to cats, I have to resort to other means.
For now, I’ll pray that God will not allow any more mice to make themselves at home in my house. And for those that may already be here, I’ll pray that they all suffer the least painful way possible, while still keeping my family safe and my home clean. And just in case that method is the glue trap, I’ll keep a few Wal-Mart bags on hand.
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