“Daddy, I saw a mouse in the kitchen!” calls Iona as she runs into the bedroom.
“Ok, I’ll set a trap for it before we leave for church,” I answer, not really taking my attention off the new programming language I’m learning. We’ve caught two rats in the last couple of days, but with two small children and a dog roaming the house, I don’t like leaving armed traps out in the open.
A few minutes elapse…
“‘Ook, datty! ‘Ook, datty!” babbles Eden, wandering into the bedroom. Her hands are full, as usual. I see she has my luggage padlock in one hand (so that’s where that went!) But what’s that in the other? I don’t recall any stuffed animals that color … boy oh crikey! It’s a rat!
“Put it down put it DOWN PUT IT DOWN” I yell. If that thing’s alive, I don’t want her bit! If it’s dead, I don’t want her flea bit! And in either case, I sure don’t want it dumped in my lap! Of course, my yelling sets her to crying, but not to dropping it, so I have to get it out of her hand, and then haul her to the kitchen to scrub with soap, and then chase the dog off the corpse so I can scoop it into the trash.
Iona explains that the mouse was in the kitchen and Amika was eating it. We don’t have any poison about, and there was no trap set, so I think our timid little Yorkie caught and killed it. Good on ya!
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