I apologise in advance if today’s posts are a little on the lax side. I didn’t sleep well last night. In fact for much of the night, I lay awake in a state of agitated blood-lust, straining to hear the thwap of an activated trap, and possibly the anguished squeal of a vanquished mouse.
My foe is far from Burns’ ‘wee, sleekit, cowrin, tim'rous beastie’. On the contrary, whilst it may be inaccurate to say that the rodent ambled from behind the television when making its first appearance, during Friday’s Holland vs. France clash, certainly its scuttle was imbued with a casual lack of urgency which suggests that it already considers itself an inhabitant of the house fully entitled to enjoy the amenities of the living room.
My girlfriend was initially inclined to accept the mouse’s claims of equality of residence (mainly on the grounds that it reminds her of a gerbil), and was eventually moved more by her father’s observations that mice breed, eat things, suffer incontinence and get into cupboards, rather than my argument that ‘it’s unsanitary. What if I want to lick the carpet?’.
As my suggestion that I fashion a trap with a glass and some string, then dispatch the animal with a hammer was not greeted with enthusiasm, yesterday found us both contemplating an array of traps, poisons and devices promising repulsion. On the grounds that the closed trap ‘looks like a torture chamber’ it was vetoed and two conventional traps were purchased.
Yesterday evening I baited these with bacon, primed them and settled down to watch Turkey vs. Czech Republic with the nonchalance of an experienced hunter. Unfortunately when the mouse finally made an appearance it acted with equal nonchalance, perambulated the living room, did not even pause to sniff the bacon and disappeared into the chimney breast.
This morning, I made my bleary eyed way downstairs to find two intact traps and a distinct lack of dead mice. Still it is only half time and I will best this cunning and worthy opponent, on penalties if necessary.
In other news, yesterday a bird shat on me. Thanks for reading Three Thousand Versts.