When my roommate mentioned that she bought humane sticky
traps for our unwelcome guests, I didn’t think much of it. That is, until I
found myself alone in the apartment, enjoying some Netflix and Chips Ahoy, and
heard mysterious shuffling noises coming from the kitchen.
I crept out from behind the couch, prepared to defend myself
should some tiny attacker spring out from between the eggplant-hued kitchen
island and the London landscape trash bin (the beautiful thing about our
apartment is its reflection of NYC in its clash and collaboration of styles –
case in point, the brown leather and fuzzy lime green armchairs). An anxious
flip of the light switch revealed a small mouse, stuck fast to the black gluey
pad, heart pounding through its tiny ribcage. Unfortunately, the traps came
without instructions on how to dislodge the furry intruders.
Thank God for the internet; I was given advice across a wide
spectrum, from mouse-haters to mouse enthusiasts. One kind soul suggested that
I take the trap outside and smash the creature with a shoe or, better yet, a
large hammer. Fortunately a friend sent me a link to pretty simple solution:
stick the whole thing in a container with high sides, pour oil on the little
guy, and seal him up while he wriggles free.
By this time my other roommate had arrived, and we spent the
next ten minutes fidgeting nervously around the trap, terrified of scaring the
mouse to death and equally terrified at the prospect of the mouse somehow
freeing itself and latching rabies-ridden teeth to our fingers. However, after
much finagling and a healthy dose of olive oil, the little creature finally
wriggled loose.
Compared to my initial fears of muggings, robbery, or dying
in a fire thanks to our building’s faulty smoke alarms, our tiny neighbor’s
intrusion was an almost welcome disturbance. If this is as terrifying as it
gets, I’ll be very grateful indeed. But it was just another reminder of the aspects
of nature that we cannot control, even in such a literally concrete place. The
grass still springs up from between the sidewalk cracks, the rats still roam
the subway tracks, the rain does not care whether or not it’s inconvenient
for us, and the mice still creep in to steal my Cheerios.
And for some strange reason, even these nuisances are a little
amusing.
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