11 February, 2007

Rodent in the night

On the night before last I awoke to a krr-krr-krrr sound of something evil happening past the foot of the bed. I'd been to my mate Ray's birthday and got back late, so was relegated to the spare-room-for-alcoholics-and-insomniacs.
I sat up and looked around.
Nothing happened, so I curled back up in an exhausted ball and tried to sleep. Just as I was drifting off it started again, "What is this?", thought I. Sounds like a beast of somekind. I turned the light on and sat up. Suffice to say I couldn't see any thing.
This went on for a while. I eventually figured out it was some kind of invisible rodent intent on keeping me awake with it's ridiculous mindgames, "I'll out-fox 'e.", thinks I, figuring my fatigue would outweigh any rodent gnawing-noise. Just after 2am I stopped turning the light on and looking about whenever it happened, and sure enough I must have drifted off, because I woke up with something on the back of head. I screamed an incoherent frightened whimpering and waved my arms around a bit, whacked the light on, and thought I saw something sneak down the end of the bed and behind the chest of drawers.
At this point I admitted defeat and went and woke Rosa up to get comfort and a corner of the BIG bed to sleep on (she's filled it with pillows and cushion support for her pregnant-self).

So.
Then Yesterday, whilst I was out shopping, Rosa made the bed and actually saw the little mouse when she lifted the duvet.
I borrowed a mousetrap off her parents.
Some good people came around for a poker night and I made them wear silly hats.



And then ... THEN. As I was tidying up, I armed the trap by trimming a piece of wire down to the right size and loading it with cheese:

I whipped off the duvet covers and this sweet little thing was sitting there. It shuffled off to the edge of the bed and pretended to hide about as pathetic as five year-old closing it's eyes so you can't see them.
What could I do? It was so cute.
I went to tell Rosa, who had had enough by now and told me to the, "Lay the treacherous death-machine, bitch, and get your pretty arse in here." (I'm somewhat paraphrasing, as anyone who knows Rosa will testify).
I got a plastic fruit carton, cut an airhole in the side, and plopped it over the mouse, slid the lid underneath and took a couple of photos.



I then popped it in the garden for the night in case it escaped and dropped a woolly jumper over the carton to keep it warm.

When I went to look at it the next morning it was dead. Aw.
No more mouse.

I named it Rupert and 'buried' it in the dustbin.

2 comments:

Blue in Bristol said...

Awww. poor ickle Roops. Do you think you suffocated him with the woolly jumper?

Thanks for the poker night. The Boy and I are spending our winnings on heroin and whores.

Pippin said...

Hope you've aroused yourself from your pit of bebauchery and vice by now, you swanky pair. Although I'm continually surprised how long you can live like a king on a tenner!
I found another little critter last night (or at least heard it). When I had a look in the middle of the night, the mousetrap had been fired and turned itself upside down, but there were no contents.