Every evening I sit at my desk writing. For the past several months, out of the desk drawer, through a neatly chewed hole, pops a little nose, whiskers and bright black eyes. A mouse has moved into the drawer. Its not really good to have a mouse in a house. I set a live trap for her. Night after night, week after week, month after month she ignored it. Peanut butter; cheese, it mattered not. She had this cozy home in my drawer filled with papers. She stayed warm through the bitter winter. The drawer seemed to suit her just fine. Over time I sort of looked forward to her popping out, looking at me – then quick as a ghostly shadow she was across my desk on a journey to somewhere in the nether reaches of the cabin. I wouldn’t see her again until the next evening when out she would peer, a mere six inches form my hand, look at me, then take off on her mousely business. We had a sort of relationship.
The Mouse Meadow
But, for some reason, last night she entered the trap. This morning I released her into a meadow in the warm spring morning. And realized I am going to miss that whiskered nose peering out cautiously through her peep hole each evening. Strange how just a little time with a living creature can create an attachment. I wish her well in her new life. (I left a little cache of food where I released her, to ease her transition)
PS The trap is called a tin cat and usually works like a charm, for those of you who may be interested.
The Tin Cat live trap
— by Susan Eirich, PhD —
