We have a mouse problem.
As with any mouse problem, ours started with indisputable signs. Signs like actual mice dancing the tarantella in the middle of the kitchen floor. And mouse poop in the cat's water bowl.
I don't happen to be lying about the water bowl. How's that for a flip of the mouse paw to authority?
Since we are raging pacifists, we decided not to poison them or sticky tape them or suck them up in the shop vac, although the shop vac was very, very tempting. We got a Havahart trap instead. Which is awesome.
We put some peanut butter in it, et voila! we caught our first mouse. And then we caught another one. And then the trap got all excited, or maybe nervous, and started snapping at everything that walked by. Including dust.
Meanwhile, we grew concerned about the possibility of having one mouse that just kept coming back. One friend said she put nail polish on her mice before releasing them. Have you ever looked carefully at a mouse's toenails? She must have had a very steady hand and maybe an ether-soaked rag.
Being unskilled at mouse pedicures, we figured we'd just take them a reasonable distance away. "Reasonable distance" is of course open to interpretation.
There's an old joke about two guys hiking in the woods. They see a bear, and one guy puts on his running shoes. The other guy goes "you don't really think those shoes are going to help you outrun that bear, do you?" and running shoe guy says "no, I just have to outrun you."
Which is my way of saying we're letting the mice loose in our neighbors' yards.
This is easier than Sugarplum's suggestion of blindfolding the mouse, spinning it around several times and then driving it to the mainland.
Tonight, after Chris had gone to work, I noticed the trap had shut. I was pretty sure it was more dust so I grabbed the trap to reset it - literally scaring even more poop out of the mouse inside. I texted "MOUSE!!!!!" to Chris but he did not cancel the show he was doing and come running home to save me. Which left me in a bit of a pickle.
I couldn't leave the mouse in the trap until Chris got home because it would surely communicate the dangers of the trap to its friends and family. We can't let this kind of information circulate.
I didn't especially want to release it myself because, while I'm not afraid of mice, I am afraid of rabid coyotes and things that go bump in the bog. I didn't want to leave the kids alone in the house and then, inevitably, get eaten by an angry skunk.
They're vicious, you know.
But I really couldn't let the mouse sit there, warning the others.
So I took it out. In the dark.
And put it in Chris' Jaguar.
Which should teach him not to ignore my texts.