The trapped mouse was the first thing I saw that day. I try to steer clear of any source of conflict before coffee, but, with the glue trap right next to the toilet, and peeing being my first activity of the day, I saw it.
A small mouse lying dead in a pool of glue. I gasped and startled and stumbled back. Once I had caught my breath from the initial shock of it, I felt relieved that it was dead. I drew an inch closer. I had to use the toilet and certainly have coffee and do other fortifying activities before I could ever dispose of it. As my shadow covered the trap, though, the mouse quivered, restricted by glue on all sides. That’s when I knew: It was quite alive.
Having lived in un-fancy apartments for years, I knew that a stuck and dying mouse will typically make all sorts of awful and helpless sounds. And so I thought, well, at least this one’s quiet!
And then I saw why.
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