Mouse.

Leah and I have a mouse in the new place.

Tuesday night I was going for a chocolate bar in a basket on the kitchen counter. And I notice there’s about a 1 inch by 1/4 inch chunk out of a corner — with the attendant aluminum foil wrapper also gone.

When I say “gone,” I mean “chewed away.”

I say to Leah “uh… did you do this?”

She replies with an arched eyebrow: “No.”

Leah actually saw a mouse a few weeks ago, in the bedroom. He (we presume it’s male, but have no idea really) is a little off-white mouse. He was skittering across the floorboards. She, and then we, took to calling him Stuart (after Stuart Little).

Stuart. Cute.

However, when confronted with the prospect of rodent intruder in my food preparation area, I responded as Defender Of The House. I immediately laid out two traps. The nasty cartoon snap-a-mouse’s back kind. I placed a trap at each end of our long counter. I baited each with, what else, that selfsame chocolate!

Wednesday morning the chocolate from Trap #1 was moved several inches. The trap worked perfectly when tested.

I have met the enemy, and like Al Queda, he is a smart rascal. Living among us.

In relaying this story to my good pal Sassy he gave me this advice:

they make these ones called ‘hav-a-hart’
it’s a little tube
and you put the food in the back
so the critter has to go all the way in to get it
then, the door shuts behind him
and he’s not killed, you can go release him
when we were kids, we wouldn’t allow my mom to use the real ones
they’re a bit pricey, but I can attest to them working

I found the model he meant. It’s this: M007 Live Catch.

What I’ve learned is that I have no real trouble marking a fellow earth-creature to death when it messes with my kitchen area. Vengeance is a powerful urge. When i put a PACKAGED food item on my kitchen counter I expect only the PAYING tenants to have access to said item. Across this line YOU DO NOT CROSS!

That is how I explain having put the killer traps into place Tuesday night.

Wednesday night I had settled down and Leah and I got the HavAHart traps. They now stand watch, loaded with peanut butter and chocolate.

Stuart doesn’t want to die, so much as he wants to go live in Balboa Park somewhere. Far away from this house where my cookies and tea and crackers live.

As of this writing, Stuart remains “at large” – but I’m confident he can be apprehended and brought to justice.

Don’t mess with my chocolate.