For years, my building’s trash has been plagued with giant rats. One specific evening, when I rolled in at the demure hour of 4 AM, the entire banister of our stoop was crawling with them. Finally, the super got aggressive and now we rarely see those little bastards.
As much as I don’t care for rats outside my apartment, the various urban fauna inside are far more upsetting. We get the water bugs; an affectionate name for enormous, life-destroying cockroaches. We get the little cockroaches, which only show up to let everyone know that millions of their closest friends and family members dwell within our walls. And, of course, we get the mice.
Mice are the most hated of all household pets to me. I can spray a “water bug” to death. I can smush a little roach with toilet paper, or let someone else do it. But I have a really hard time killing a mouse. In a perfect world, we would get the humane traps and the Sassy Silver Fox, Computer Cat and I would hold hands in Riverside Park as we bid adieu to our furry visitor, wistfully waving goodbye and wondering where his journey would take him next. But that would be expensive and time-consuming. I have forbidden glue traps in the apartment because they are inhumane. So we use traditional snap traps.
There was a time when the mice just laughed at our clumsy attempts to thwart them. One mouse in particular, Chauncey, was especially audacious. He lived with us from infancy and grew into a giant, disgusting fatass. He ate crumbs under our dishwasher when I was in the kitchen. In response to my screaming, he would just roll his eyes in annoyance.
We never did catch Chauncey. I think he probably died of type II mouse diabetes and sassy comebacks. By the time Mousolini moved in, I was tired of being a victim and the Computer Cat (who is not a real cat, but instead a person) was thirsty for blood. He set up traps everywhere. He named himself The Mouse Whisperer. All to no avail.
And then Mousolini went too far. He ate through our Girl Scout cookies. That’s when Computer Cat got really excited. He decided he would put Thin Mints in all the mouse traps, which received a significant amount of mockery from yours truly.
Three minutes after he distributed Thin Mint dust throughout the apartment, we heard a snap. Certain that CC had just incorrectly reset a trap, we ran into the kitchen, only to find the dead body of Mousolini, slain by his love of chocolate covered minty goodness.
Thanks to the Computer Cat and Girl Scout Cookies, we learned that Mousolini had an entire army of Blackshirt mice roaming our home. After all the hunting was done, I called the building and had all our crevices sealed off. I have no desire to become a breeding ground for the rodent fascists of this city.
No mice were harmed in the writing of this blog.
(Also, no actual mouse images were used, because it creeped me out too much when I searched them.)