escape from NY?

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The mouse got stuck, then unstuck. He got away.

The racket I heard coming from the kitchen was indeed the mouse. And he was indeed stuck to the glue trap. The plastic base was knocking into the walls of the cabinet while the mouse was scrambling about, attached to the trap by a rear foot. This definately got the attention of Tiggr, who was up on the counter, something he hardly ever does unless he needs to shred the paper towels. Tiggr's paws were leaning against the door, possibly to keep someone from letting the mouse out again. The man of the house was summoned to dispose of the creature. Guess what? He freed it, albeit unintentionally, from the glue, and it escaped near death yet again. I bet that comes as no surprise.

Now I have to decide if I am going to "bring it up a notch", as Emeril says. It's Fat Tuesday, what would Emeril do? Would he cook up a storm for cajun feasting and share it with the hapless critter? Or might he get down to business, mano a mouso? I've gotta work up a plan C.

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2 Comments

Kristy said:

My money's on the sticky traps. Don't give up on them yet. Maybe give up on the man of the house though. Okay, one more chance. But three strikes and he's out--agreed?

Carol said:

You know, I used the gluey traps as ramps to help the mice get onto the "lazy susans" in my cupboards. I figured for 15 cents each, they ought to serve some use in this mission! But I only get the guy involved so he thinks we need him around here. Last weekend, when he and the tween decided to completely rearrange her tiny bedroom, I was the one who moved the furniture while they were having a "lunch break". He comes back upstairs and seems stunned that I did it without his help. Without his giving orders, is more like it. Men.

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This page contains a single entry by Carol published on February 28, 2006 7:28 AM.

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