Resistance is Phutile

Too smart for it's own good.

Wasn't sure whether to post this. I had intended to ever since this morning's fruitless results, but reading Leo Hickman's article in G2 today about mouse traps discouraged me. He'd stolen my thunder. Still, while acknowledging Mr Hickman, I eventually decided to go ahead anyway.



For the third day in a row, I woke up and rushed to the kitchen in anticipation of finding a mouse in the trap I had set, door firmly closed behind it. And for the third day in a row I found nothing. Perhaps I shouldn't have allowed my hopes to rise only to be struck down by another defeat. But each day had seen a little improvement in my technique.

Firstly, I had set up the trap and left some cheese in the bait compartment at the back. The next morning revealed no sign of any interest from the enemy.

Second time around I left some oats by the front of the trap to lure the enemy in, thinking maybe the cheese lurking deep in the trap had gone unnoticed. What was really unbearable the next morning, even more than the absense of the rodent, was the absense of the oats. The little bastard had mockingly hoovered up the oats around the front of the trap and scarpered.

So, I thought, it knows this is a trap, designed to capture it. Quite clever, for a creature with a brain the size of a pea. Then it occurred to me: I hadn't scattered oats all the way down the trap.
Maybe the enemy, contrary to popular belief, doesn't like cheese.

So accordingly I poured oats all the way through the little tunnel of mouse-doom that had thus far been a flat disappointment. This time I was confident.

Sure enough, the oats had been eaten, alright. Eaten nearly all the way up to the very end of the trap, just before the door trigger mechanism.

Bastard.

The moral of the story?

Don't buy 'humane' mouse traps. Nothing that has caused me such distress over the last couple of mornings can ever be described as 'humane'.

Now I think back to when I was in the shop asking if they sold traps, I am filled with suspicion. The woman behind the counter, who had hitherto seemed like a lovely, pet loving type, almost barked back: "humane traps, we only sell humane ones". While she fixated me with her cold, accusatory glare, one of her minions scuttled off somewhere and returned a second later, placing one of the devices on the table.

A little unsure of whether humane traps were actually going to do the job, I looked to my girlfriend in silent plea for help, or instruction.

"Five pound fifty"

The icy stare directed straight at me.

"That's it, that's the one. Five fifty. We only sell humane traps. Once you've caught it let it out on the common."

As we walked back home I decided yes, why the need to kill the poor mouse? This was much better.

I now realise that bitch at the pet shop had always known the device was useless, and that she actually likes to see herself as the unsung hero of the mouse world. The queen of rodents. By selling these 'humane' pieces of junk she ensures the continued success of the rodent invasion into our homes. Not only that, but it's a nice little earner too.

Anyway, I'm going to get a real trap and execute the enemy. If it hadn't been so smart, I would have let it out on the common.

posted by Phu @ 2:29 pm