If you give a mouse a brownie...
There was a mouse in my house last week, I was sure of it.
What tipped me off? A paper-wrapped tin of cookies in a cabinet in the laundry room was mysteriously becoming unwrapped. All by itself. Little by little, every day more paper torn off.
And then there were the telltale droppings, reminiscent of caraway seeds. Rye bread is forever ruined for me. I needed to get him out.
I hesitated when it became apparent I should buy a trap. He was a mouse, and probably very cute. I have a soft spot for cute furry things, but I tired of Cloroxing the cabinet every day, and frankly, the task was pretty gross. Plus, mice are rodents, and rodents carry disease.
We had some glue traps in the basement, left over from last year's cricket crisis, but I'd heard horror stories. Stories about mice chewing their own legs off to break free from those sticky sheets. No. It would have to be quick and relatively merciful. So I purchased two old-fashioned snap traps and baited them with yellow American cheese. Snapped my own finger in the process.
The next morning, I ran downstairs and braced myself as I inched open the cabinet. No mouse. No cheese. No cheese? He had managed to grab the cheese out of two traps without getting caught. Hmmm.
After giving it some thought, I figured the cheese was too easy to snatch. That night, I tried cream cheese and peanut butter, smearing each into its own trap so that the lifting wouldn't be possible. He'd have to linger, and that would ensure his demise. I headed upstairs, but first I got out the Clorox and the paper towels and cleaned up the mess he'd left behind.
The next morning, I approached the cabinet, filled half with dread and half with anticipation. Slowly, I opened the cabinet. No mouse. No cream cheese. No peanut butter.
I'm not kidding. That rodent had managed to lick clean two traps without setting them off. He was diabolical. And brilliant.
After Cloroxing the cabinet, I reached for the glue traps. I felt bad. I hoped he wouldn't suffer. But there was a mouse in my house and he was leaving his diseased rodent droppings in my food cabinet. And probably laughing at me. I was beginning to feel like Elmer Fudd, and for the first time in my life, I understood him.
Reluctantly, I peeled the backing off the super stickly traps and laid two in the cabinet, right next to the tin of cookies. He'd have to walk on the traps if he wanted to do any more unwrapping.
In the morning, I opened the cabinet and there was no mouse. But there was plenty of mouse fur stuck to the glue trap. And quite a few droppings scattered about. He'd gotten stuck and he'd freed himself. This was an impressive mouse!
Certain that the traps used earlier had been defective, I threw them away and purchased two more, baiting them the same way -- with peanut butter and cream cheese -- for the next two nights. Licked clean both times.
Then Saturday night, my daughter Julia and her friend baked some browines after dinner. I set the hot pan on top of the stove to cool. John, who had been in the basement, came upstairs and whispered to me that we'd have to throw away the brownies. He said that when he came up the stairs, which lead into the kitchen, the mouse was standing in the pan, nibbling on the cooling brownies. It ran behind the stove when it saw him.
That's probably the most disgusting thing I'd ever heard. I still don't know how he made it upstairs and on top of the range. I Cloroxed the stove and threw out the entire batch of brownies, except for two pea-sized crumbs, which I placed in each of the traps in the basement cabinet.
The brownies did him in within an hour. And, yes, he was cute.



