Random Gloats: The Mystery of the Missing Mouse Traps

The Adventures of Young Geoffrey and Raven, the Girl Wonder

The Mystery of the Missing Mousetraps

Raven is by no means a stereotype, except when it comes to things that creep and crawl. Let her catch sight of a fly or a spider (never mind a centipede!) and she's just this side of hopping onto the nearest table. I have become the designated killer.

Tuesday night I heard a shriek from the kitchen and rushed in, all ready to destroy yet another invertebrate but, "I think I saw a mouse," she said, clutching me to her heaving bosom.

"A mouse!" I scoffed. "There are no mice here!" I gave a cursory rifle through the various bags of rice and other sundry items beneath one end of the counter, spotted (and squashed) a beetle of some sort and suggested she had mistaken that largish bug for a mamal.

She was adamant she had spotted something much larger and fast than a mere beetle and so it was that, on the precautionary principle, I picked up a four-pack of glue traps on Wednesday. (I know, glue traps are cruel. So are the traditional back-breakers; the last time I used the latter, I came home from work to find one poor creature that had got it's hind legs caught in one trap, then crawled about the kitchen until it ran into another — which also failed to kill it. The creature was still twitching when I finally put it out of its misery.)

Anyway, she was right. Within an hour of setting out the first trap we'd caught one, a very large, sleek and well-fed looking beast, which was desperately struggling to escape. I'll spare you the details, but suffice it to say, it won't won't be eating anyone's rice ever again.

So, Raven was right. We have a mouse problem. But I had the solution and so set out another trap.

Come Thursday morning, when I descended to the kitchen prior to heading out for my morning run, I noticed a perplexing thing.

There was no mouse to be seen, but neither was there a mouse-trap.

I checked the kitchen's corners thoroughly and even moved the stove — no mouse, no trap. I descended to the basement. I can't claim I checked it thoroughly (that would be the work of many days), but there was no obvious sign of either mouse or trap. No squeaks or squeals, no scuttling, no nothing. Only silence (the dehumidifier being in need of emptying).

Perplexed, I ascended the stairs and went out for my run. Later, there were only denials from the household when I asked if someone else had dealt with a stuck rodent. And so determined to try again.

You can see where this is going, I think. This morning, no mouse, another trap gone missing.

Apparently, we are hosting one genius of a mouse, or else a collective working with remarkable cooperation to deal with hazards in "their" kitchen.

Either way, it seems that escalation is the only alternative; tonight, I expect to set out a traditional snare and then, well, we shall see what we shall see. Also, I guess it's time to start cleaning out the basement.