©Jeanne E. Webster
“What is this?” I asked as I opened my car door, noticing some bits of shredded white paper on the back seat. I immediately thought of the roll of paper towels I kept there in case my grandchildren needed a bit of cleanup. “Hmmm…” my thoughts paused, “is something going on here?” Quickly dismissing the incident, I grabbed the paper towel roll and threw it into the trunk. I figured whatever was happening in the back seat wouldn’t carry over to the trunk.
A few days later a fast memory recall came as no surprise. Staring down into the trunk of my car, I knew I had been bamboozled. A medium-size pile of paper towel bits lay in the back of the trunk. “Well, I guess something is going on! I have a critter in my car.”
Thoughts scurried as fast as mice toenails skitter across the floor. “What am I going to do?” Living in the country has its advantages, but there are a few disadvantages one needs to address, such as sharing personal possessions with non-domesticated critters. That is unacceptable. No mouse is going to become a squatter in my car and have billions of babies…well, twenty maybe?
I pondered what was the best course of action to take. Should I set a trap? Yuck, that entails baiting a trap, waiting for that fatal SNAP-POP-PING, and body disposal maneuver. No, not that. I could take the coward’s way out and buy some De-con, that way I wouldn’t have to deal with the messy trap thing. It’ll eat the poison, leave the car to go find water and die out there in the great
wilderness somewhere. “Hmmm?”
(this story is grossing me out; too much recall)
I bought the deadly De-con and set that little yellow box in the trunk and removed the paper towel bits. “Here you are little mousey, mousey. Yum yum time.” Goodbye mouse–or so I thought.
The following day I opened the trunk and, “Aha!” There had been dancing in the moonlight! Swiping my hands together with the smile of victory, I considered the job done. A week later as I drove into town, my highly sensitive nose-smelling sensors emitted a high-red alert. I think I smelled a mouse…a DEAD mouse! “OH NO!”
My thoughts unraveled into hypo-gear and shock: “I shouldn’t have done that,” to “What a stupid mouse.” It was supposed to eat and leave, you know, a fast food place. But no, it had to eat and die there. “Good grief. Now what do I do?” I searched almost that entire car for the dead body, to no avail.
Yes, you’re right…I had to tough it out for three months, endless torture, etched forever in my memory. That dirty, rotting dust ball rides with me today wherever I go and probably has a big grin on its powdered face.
Moral: never ever use De-con in your car. Put on the gloves, get out that dab of peanut butter, rustle up the bravado and bait the darn trap and wait for that SNAP. Believe me, you’ll get over that quicker than the months of nauseating STINK.