bad person

The hunt for the mouse has been a on going process for a few weeks now. It started when I saw him run from underneath my door to into my closet. I cleaned my closet out, finding a great deal of mouse droppings and chased him around my room with an umbrella, a tall circular box and a roll of wrapping paper. I wasn’t sure what I would do if I did find him. I held the box hoping I could save his life by trapping him in it, but realistically the box was very narrow and my golfing skills aren’t that great.

The next night I put a mousetrap in my closet. Nights past and the bait was changed from cheese to peanut butter to m&m’s with no luck. But the mouse must have been smart because I noticed that the trap was constantly pushed away from the doorway. Last night I decided that maybe luck would change if I took the sticky paper (that was bought for the mouse hunt) and put it in my closet. To make it more attractive I put an m&m in the middle and placed it where I knew he often ran.

I was awaken by tiny chirps. I rolled over and over trying to block the sound. If I could be for sure that they were just from the birds outside like I prayed I would have been able to drift back to sleep. But my gut was telling me something else. I braced myself for the site of the mouse. Not that they are gross and ugly like a rat but I hate to see anything in pain or lying there dying. I switched on my lamp and sure enough there was a tiny mouse stuck in the sticky paper. I turned away not wanting to have to deal with the mouse but knowing that I have to be a big girl and calling my sister or brother in law would be kinda babyish. I ran downstairs to get my winter gloves then pulled on a sweater and picked up the mouse and the sticky paper.

As I was taking the mouse (and the paper it was stuck on) outside my sister offered her assistance. I took it willingly, not wanting to deal with the mouse myself. I attempted to take it off the paper but he wouldn’t let me. T’s only solution was to kill it. I couldn’t I said and looked deep in thought to what I could do to save it’s life.

“Well go to bed then,” she said and I listened. If she was willing to deal with it or leave it for Tom in the morning then that was better then me having to see if suffer any longer.

I feel bad, maybe I should have tried harder to get it removed from the sticky paper. I don’t know it’s final destiny I’m kinda glad its out of my room but don’t like the thought of it having to dye.