Yes, I am a mouse killer. It’s a new thing for me.

About a month ago I mentioned my initial attempts at starting a garden. I had grand dreams of pumpkin vines and rows of fluffy leafed lettuce, needless to say these visions have yet to be realized. In reality I have a grand total of nine very small sunflower plants, four cosmos and a few other seedlings I forgot to label in my zest to get the seeds planted. I planted over 300 seeds and my product thus far is less than 20 plants. The main issue up to this point has not been my complete lack of gardening knowledge. Nay, it has been mice. I had thought the mice and I could peacefully coexist, them eating a few of my seeds while I turned a blind eye, but not devouring crop after crop of soft, green sunflower shoots. And it hasn’t just been my seedlings they have been after. The little effers have been breaking into the cereal boxes, licking butter out of the butter dish and boldly leaving their paw prints as if to mock my kindness and generosity. They are pooping on the counters at night after they binge themselves on any tidbit they can find. Sometimes they even saunter, not scurry, across the floor just on the periphery of my vision as they go off in search of more food to stuff in to their worthless cheeks.

Yesterday I reached a breaking point and declared the truce to be over. My mom dug out some old traps and I baited them and gleefully laid them out in all the really hot places of the kitchen. And then I went upstairs to watch a movie, sure that when I came downstairs I would find the traps sprung with fat little mouse butts protruding. After the movie the traps were sprung but much to my fury they were empty of both rodent and bait. The little fuckers had outwitted me. Tonight we out for a movie but not before I re-baited the traps, this time with peanut butter. When we came in the door I could hardly wait to see if I had succeeded.And this is what awaited me on the counter:

After all my excitement over the thought of eliminating vermin I thought I would vomit up the popcorn and Hot Tamales from the movie. Dear God, I killed a living thing! Killed as in dead. There it was on the counter all floppy with its cute little tail and soft fur. This sweet creature to whom I had initially granted freedom was dead at my hands. And yet…such was my fascination that I turned him over for a different view and snapped that as well.

The whole thing has left me sick to my stomach but in a really interesting sort of way. I wonder if this means I am well on my way to becoming a sociopath.