2005-04-04 - 6:44 p.m. You never think "today I have to drown a mouse." You much less think you'll say "fill the bucket, we have to drown the mouse." Sometimes, though, you have to. We had a mouse. It took me, slowly, four days to realize that we did. I saw the little black pellets. Saw the hole chewed out in the napkin. Part of the unrealization was the fact that this isn't a cheap apartment. I've lived in cheap apartments. Never had a mouse. Had a hamster once, but he was a pet. Didn't have to drown him. When I finally realized, and accepted, that we had a mouse, I called the apartment's main office. "It's a great day at Wildwood Crossings, this is Mitzi, how can I help you?" "Yeah, I've got a rodent problem." "Well. Okay. Are they ants or, okay, what kind of bug is it?" "No. A rodent. Probably a mouse." She sent over some glue traps. Four hours after I called. Three hours after we were tired of waiting and left to see the Vulcan. Not Nimoy, mind you. The next morning the glue trap had done its job. The mouse was stuck, on its side. He was squeaking. This is the part of the story I remind people that at one point, for about a year, I was a vegetarian. That mindset is still in me, somewhere, covered by ham. The only thing to do, when you know the death is coming, but way too slowly to be comfortable for the mouse and for you is to kill it. Somehow. We drowned it. Bubbles came out, slowly. Lungs heaved. But it didn't take long. Less than a minute. An air bubble from its ear reached the surface. I used latex gloves to move the mouse around. Latex gloves have that powdered, sickly smell to them that will always remind me of death. From disecting cats in high school to this mouse, I've used latex gloves. You can wash your hands, but that smell, it doesn't leave. Scratch your cheek and you smell it. And you remember. "Today I drowned a mouse." previous - next