It had been eating my dog’s food. It had chewed a hole under the sink. It had left me feeling my home was no longer mine. So I set a trap for the mouse in my kitchen, ready to give it the stiffest possible penalty for its trespassing. I went off to work, leaving a dab of peanut butter next to a coiled spring for my unwelcome guest.
I came home hoping to find a tiny corpse but instead found only tiny shreds of paper beside the dog food bag the creature once again tried to dig into. Not only had the trap failed to kill it, the trap was gone. Completely gone.
Tegan the Jack Russelll Terrorist was now released from her crate and, bred to kill, she led me down the hall to my bedroom closet. As I moved a box aside, the mousetrap suddenly appeared, scraping across the floor, pulled by the mouse whose tail was caught in it. Like the airtanks harpooned to the shark in JAWS, the mousetrap gave the mouse away and slowed it down but the creature still managed to make it under my bed.
Tegan dove in after it and the bed I’d wanted to sleep in was now the scene of a cramped but frantic chase beneath it. I stood by helplessly until the little dog emerged from under the bed with the mouse in her jaws. There was a grim crunching sound as Tegan chewed the mouse as if it were a stick of jerky before dropping the rodent on the ground and staring at it. She seemed almost disappointed it was now dead.
I disposed of the tiny corpse (finally!) and write this account as my beloved pet paces up and down the hall, sniffing at the baseboards, eager for more. She has tasted blood this night but, as I finally prepare for bed, she will soon be curled up near my toes while I sleep.
An uneasy sleep…