Alas- the inevitable happened. After months of pursuing the infamous chocoholic mouse, my best beloved came upon a heaven-sent trap in the holy aisles of Capital Iron. It was a sticky trap- some sort of super glue slathered on a thin piece of black plastic (I never did ask how much it cost). The warning on the side of the box suggested that “if fingers get stuck on the product, release by applying vegetable oil”. It was such a simple method…why hadn’t we thought of it before?? Greg set the trap beside the stove, deducing that to be the primary site of entry (evidence of tiny droppings along the counter top confirmed the same). The next morning he found the mouse (to the mouse’s dismay) firmly and irrevocably cemented to the surface of the plastic trap. The mouse was not happy. Feeling pity for the tiny creature, Greg applied the vegetable oil to it’s wee paws (after placing the whole apparatus into a deep bowl), and the mouse scrambled off. Now- under ordinary circumstances- one would suppose that a prisoner might feel a twinge of gratitude at being given freedom. Twas not to be. The bonzai-ed rodent refused to look it’s beneficent captor in the face, nor cooperate with attempts at negotiation or dialogue. Greg was getting pretty discouraged with these persistent rebuffs. At this point in time, Leporello (our opportunistic cat) waltzed across the lawn. You might say that a temporary lapse of consciousness caused the bowl to ease its way gently to the ground. At any rate, the oil soaked creature began to make its way across the lawn with Leporello in hot pursuit (and we all know the nature of cats with mice). At last sighting, Leporello had the mouse by the head and was about to tuck in. We have not had nocturnal serenades from within the walls since. I can now eat Reese’s peanut butter cups with impunity. Hear endeth the lesson. Thanks be to God.