Of Mice and Women, Part 2
Recognizing one's limitations is very important.
Ten minutes after Mary and her family left my house, I heard a loud snap. Screaming bloody murder, I leapt out of my kitchen and got on the phone. Mary, Danny and Finn hadn't even made it home yet. They circled back to my house, and Danny played executioner. It was his 40th birthday. Now you know why I called them angels.
The exterminator came on Monday and did exactly what I "coulda-shoulda-woulda" done. He took the snap traps I already had, applied nontoxic bait and stuffed the cracks with steel wool. Now, my snap traps did have one eco-touch: They are made of FSC-certified wood, meaning the wood used to make them comes from forests that were managed in a way that cares for indigenous communities and the land.
My neighbor Tony—who, fortunately, finds all of my pleas "funny" and isn't sick of me yet—checked the traps last night. They remain empty. I have found the courage to cross the "killing zone" and make tea and coffee (caffeine is a powerful motivator) and am trying to be gentle with my fears.