The Wild Life

Fair warning: The beginning has a fairly high ick-factor. On the radio last week, the host said he'd had the worst ever beginning to his day that morning. He'd gone down to the kitchen to start the coffee and stepped on a snake. He said it squished. I was relieved to learn that it was dead, a gift from his cat, not one that could've bitten him. But still. Ick. Now I've never had a snake in the house. Not that I know of, anyway. However I do occasionally find evidence that we've been hosting a mouse or two. We live across the street from a large, empty field and it seems that, unlike squirrels, mice have developed the ability to cross a road. It's not a regular thing by any means. We've gone years without even one mouse visitor. But, not wanting them to get comfy and start a family, we leave traps tucked in corners where it's most likely they'll surface. I really hated the old-fashioned traps that left the furry little carcass visible. I would do anything to avoid picking them up if my husband were away, including leaving the laundry room shut and going to a laundromat. Then my husband found enclosed traps where the mouse goes inside a white plastic box. I still have trouble disposing of those traps. I feel the weight and know the mouse is there and it creeps me out. Having a good imagination is not always a great thing. Then one evening--the same evening I'd heard about the snake, my husband and I were watching tv when a little brown mouse zipped from under sofa to behind the tv table. It was so unexpected, it was almost funny. Almost. We grabbed one of the traps and placed it so the mouse would run into it on its way out the other side, but the clever thing shot out from under the center of the table and straight across the room. Thank goodness for husbands. He grabbed a plastic container and dropped it on top of the mouse, which had paused, I think, to figure out where it was. He slid a piece of cardboard under the box and took the mouse back across the street to the field. Due to this, those discreetly placed traps are now lining the house at three-foot intervals, looking like a necklace of giant pop beads. Just for the record, if I ever did see a snake in my house, I would calmly put my phone in my purse, grab my car keys and leave. Forever. No discussion. I was lying about the "calmly" part.