I seem to have a rodent theme this month. I didn't plan on that.
An unfortunate downside to living in the country is that every pest in a two-mile radius sees my home as a beacon of warmth and food. We have experienced several waves of field-mice migration into our home. I used to feel bad for them, because they are darn cute! If I saw one, I wouldn't tell my husband because I knew that he would kill it. After all, they aren't maliciously attacking us or anything. They just want to be away from the cold and have an ample supply of crumbs.
My sympathy for them ceased one day this summer. I was changing the crib linens. I lifted the teddy bear in the corner to expose mouse poo. I screamed in horror. You'd think I found a mountain lion hiding there. Since then it has been war. I would use humane traps, but I don't have time to find new homes for pests. I'm sure that they would just make their way back here anyway. My dogs are useless. I've seen them lay there and watch as a mouse scurries past. "There goes Murray", is what I imagine they think as they hold their position on the couch. So, now there is poison in every nook of the house that I'm sure neither a dog or baby can access. I don't like to think about what the poison does to the mice. I'm sure it's not good. I justify my cruelty by the fact that I have babies and animals, and I cannot have them ingesting rodent excrement.
Recently I have noticed some unusual holes in clothing. Not from wear, but from something eating the fabric. A new batch of immigrants had made the laundry room home. I put out some fresh poison. I can't afford to replace clothing from rodent damage, the hopeless stains that Barrett creatively makes, and Gunther's colossal diaper blowouts.
A few days had passed and I had forgotten all about the holes and the poison. I forgot about all of it until I was leaving one afternoon and a little mouse stumbled out of the laundry room. She was dying from the poison. The little thing sat there, her eyes opening and shutting for a few seconds. She saw me, but couldn't move. Her belly was round and full. She was pregnant, poor girl. She had come here to find a warm place for her babies and now poison was wrecking her innards. Guilt consumed me as I watched her die. "I'm sorry" I mouthed.
I am turning full pest-control duties over to my husband. He is much better at being cruel.