The Exterminator

We have this cute little mouse. He is really brave, running over the carpet while we're watching TV, scooting around the sides of the room and under the kitchen bench. He was running around in the dregs of the party, happy little fella. He even climbed up to the top of the fridge and nibbled a hole in the plastic bag so that he could get to the wasabi rice cakes.

P and I discussed it - we knew he had to go - so I asked P about getting traps. She said we'd have to call The Exterminator. For a mouse?? Surely you just put out traps? And wouldn't it be expensive?

No, apparently any vermin in New York are 'taken care' of by Exterminators, paid for by the landlord.

So, the Exterminator came today, early, while I was still in my jammies. He had a box rather than..... a big blaster...Don't know what I was expecting. He said he could lay out some sticky glue strips, but I'd heard about the slow, starving deaths those produced and asked for a quick demise for my little disease carrying buddy. So he opened his box and produced.....traps.

Geez don't you have something more high tech? Apparently so, these traps had yellow plastic on them, next generation.

So he set three of them with chocolate in the places the mouse ran, round the edges of the room and behind the fridge. I came home tonight and checked off one, two, three...crossing my fingers the little one had realized the danger...then saw his tiny upturned body under the fourth, near the window.

Sniff.

P is away til Monday night. I'll have to dispose of the body myself, because apparently the Exterminator thinks that is the easy part.