Infantile, hysterical behavior you should have come to our house last night. We caught.....something. My son thinks it a bit big for a mouse. I thought shrieks and tears and a racing heart and a refusal to come downstairs this morning until my dearest husband completed a careful and through inspection of the premises, ensuring me that that 1)whatever it might be did not escape 2) whatever it might be did not have a coterie of friends and comrades ready and willing to risk their lives to set him free, was in fact reasonable behavior.
Currently said creature is caught in a live trap, the whole thing, trap and animal wrapped in two plastic bags, sitting on its side outside with a rock on top. Unless it of course managed to chew through the metal and leave through a hole in the bag without leaving any trace of its exist which of course is a completely sane concern upon my part knowing the vile yet intelligent nature of the beasts. Where are the assault weapons when you need one.?
They are out to get us!
I don't know how my husband will dispose of it, I only know I won't be there. And he better kill it really good!
Rachel Ann,
rat phobic,
signing off
(what is the word for rat-phobic?)
Yikes! I would have joined you in the hysteria!!
Posted by: Angie at November 8, 2004 12:22 PMIt's called muridaphobia. Or just common sense. ;)
Posted by: Jim at November 8, 2004 04:12 PMUGH! What the heck is that thing? A mutant rat?
Is it gone? Damn, Rachel Ann, call the IDF!
awww, the poor creature probably thinks you are a scary mutant too! ;)
LOL.
@
Posted by: annette at November 8, 2004 06:59 PMI meant to comment on this a few weeks ago. We've recently had a rodent problem in our house. We've had an exterminator check things out. One night about 3 1/2 weeks ago my sons found a mouse in their room. While moving furniture to locate it, we inadvertantly trapped (painfully, I guess, due to its shrieks) between two heavy objects. My wife was talking to the exterminator. Once we caught it, she put me on the phone. He told me to hit it in the head. I hated to do it. I took a broomstick and bashed it once. But it was to the body. The next time I got past my nerves I hit it in the head and it was dead.
My boys were not very happy with me. I wasn't too happy either. But I was a hero to my wife! Since our Rabbi told us to bury a dead animal we once found on our property, we took the mouse outside and buried it.
I'd really rather leave the dirty work up to the exterminator or to the poison he lays down.