The mouse in the house…

My husband is on a mission. Every night before he goes to bed he sets a carefully orchestrated trap for an elusive, yet endearing micro-rodent that happens to have a penchant for Reese’s peanut butter cups. This complicated ritual begins with the setting of the trap, which consists of a tiny glass bowl containing one large chocolate peanut butter cup laid out on the counter, over which is suspended a large glass baking dish leaning (at ~ 30 degree angle) against a bamboo stick that is in turn attached to a thin thread. The thread trails from the bamboo stick across the kitchen to the place where my dear husband posts his ‘night watch’, complete with a mirror set up so that he can keep an eye on the mouse once he emerges from the recesses of his carefully hidden domicile. This ritual continues into the night as, like a well oiled machine, Greg falls asleep only to spring to life at 4am, in time to see the wee creature bury its face rapturously into the mouth-watering confection (did I say that he USED to buy them for ME?). He always seems to be one heartbeat behind the mouse- although on one momentous occasion he did get within a few inches of snaring it. An ill-timed noise was all it took to send the mouse sailing through the air and scurrying underneath the refridgerator- much like the Mighty Mouse character that I grew up watching on television. Greg insists that he does not want to hurt the mouse, but rather wishes to keep it as a pet (yes Virginia). He is all set to get the cage, the running wheel, and all of the other accoutrements necessary for the emotional and physical well-being of this most fortunate animal. I must say that I am a little concerned about any living thing subsisting on a diet of Reese’s peanut butter cups- and I have been looking for the tell-tale signs that the mousey palate has changed. So far the droppings have been concentrated around the bait.
I am tempted to let Leporello visit for a night, thinking that a quick death rather than death by chocolate would be a more merciful end of things. However this confrontation with the natural order of things (like predator-prey relationships) would be too much for my dearest and most tender-hearted husband. I think that I should just buy him another mouse…maybe.

2 thoughts on “The mouse in the house…

  1. Those peanut butter cups are incredibly good. That is the luckiest mouse alive! – Matthew Francis (a virtual, if not virtuous, friend of your son Matthew’s)

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