It was just before Christmas, as I was out working in my garage one evening, that a little mouse surprised me by coming out to see what I was doing. We chatted briefly, but he seemed rather shy and scurried back under one of the storage cabinets.<\/p>\n
For the rest of that evening and the next several as well, I would see him darting about the garage perimeter doing whatever it is mice do. I hadn’t noticed any box chewing or other mouse related damage, and wondered aloud during out frequent “chats” if he was living alone or whether he had plans to start a family. He wasn’t very forthcoming. Somewhere along in here I also had the questionable sense to begin referring to him as Wilbur.<\/p>\n
Two evenings ago I told Wilbur that it was high time that he packed up and went back outside. I just didn’t feel I could trust him to live alone and not go and die someplace inaccessible and stink the place up. But I suspected he really wasn’t listening to me.<\/p>\n
Yesterday, I set the traps, hoping to nip the mouse-fest in the bud. An hour later, Wilbur was lured by the irresistible power of peanut butter to his untimely demise. A full day later, the reset traps remain empty. Good news in that I really don’t have a mouse issue, but I’m now feeling bad that I killed Wilbur. After all, he lived up to his end and was living harmlessly alone. I just couldn’t bring myself to trust him. His silence just wasn’t convincing.<\/p>\n
So I offer this advice as we head into the new year. Communication really is important to relationships. Oh, and never name the thing you intend to hunt – especially if you have a marshmallow interior.<\/p>\n