We've got mice in our building. They usually visit our place at night while we're watching TV. Little black shapes running across our floor into the kitchen. It's impossible to focus on anything else once we've seen one.
These mice are brazen. They used to have parties on top of Mel and Adam's fridge. They've chewed on dirty laundry. They've eaten Christmas presents we lovingly placed under the tree. They have no manners and can't be rehabilitated, so I'm afraid they have to die.
Jenni and I had great luck last year with mousetraps baited with peanut butter. We crushed quite a few mice within a couple days. I think they got the message. When the mice returned this autumn, we got one right away. We haven't had any luck since.
I loaded up a couple traps last night, and placed them in a "V" formation in a known mouse loitering area. This morning I found that the mice had licked the traps clean of all peanut butter without setting them off. Even the bait that I'd packed under the hook of the trigger was gone. These are some painstaking rodents. They have a surgeon's touch. I salute their deftness of tongue and their bravery.
These mice are clearly too svelte. They're not heavy enough to set off the traps. But that's okay. Time is on my side. I've re-armed the traps and placed them in the same spot as last night. They're going to consume a lot of peanut butter in the coming weeks and bulk up. Then there'll be some killin'.