I am typing this very, very slowly and quietly. Mostly because I am watching a mouse die. It doesn't know it's dying yet. It's been running around on the kitchen countertop and stove for the past half an hour with flagrant disregard for the deal that was struck in time immemorial between humans and 'pests'. That is, they walk all over our plates, cutlery, and food at night and don't leave evidence of their existence and we don't kill them. Once they start leaving droppings or coming out in daylight it's a no-hold-barred-free-for-all on their extermination. Sorry, little friends. Them's the rules. I don't make them up. I simply enforce them.
So, while I was sitting here in the kitchen (at 10pm but with the lights on) a mouse decided to run across the counter. A cute little brown mouse. I could forgive that. I mean, maybe he was late getting home to his little mouse family across the house. Maybe he doesn't live here and is just on a layover. I can sympathise with that. But then he ran across again. And then again. And then he went out on the stovetop and climbed up on the teapot. He sniffed around a little and then sat up on his haunches and looked at me like he was daring Cuba to make a move.
Wrong move little friend. I promptly found a small container of rat poison under the sink, opened it up and put it on the counter. He wandered around. He continued dancing on the teapot. I was torn for a few moments about whether I should be willing him toward the container or away from it. But, the behaviour is, frankly, flagrant. What if other mice follow his example? We would have chaos. We would have - well, the movie Ratatouille and who wants that?
After about 5 minutes he found it and was so delighted that he has jumped into the box and is munching away on the deadly pellets. I suppose I should feel bad but frankly I'm just relieved that the death warrant has been sealed and I have nothing more to do....except scrub down that teapot with bleach.