A friend of mine posted on facebook, it's all I have, how he felt guilt after killing a snake. It scared him and he beat it to death with a copper pipe, he said he did it because it was poisonous and was in the middle of the break room scaring people. When I heard this story I could sympathize with him because something very similar happened to me while Ryan was gone, only not as dangerous as killing a poisonous snake in the desert.
I once found little tiny poops on my kitchen counters, I didn't know wether they were cockroach or mouse, as I have never known a cockroach to be in a house until I moved to Alabama. I looked up what they might be and they actually looked like they could be either, the cockroaches are giant there.
Either way, I couldn't have something spreading its fecal matter on my counter tops and potentially getting into the food I prepare. So I went to the store and picked up some traps, the sticky pad kinds. I figured that if it was a cockroach it might not set off the trap and you really, really don't want to smash those things... BLUH! I have nightmares about what came out of the first and only roach I ever smashed, it squirted about ten feet, black goo.
So I placed the sticky pads in the corners along the wall of my kitchen like it suggested and just waited. A couple days passed before Beau and I were about to take a nap and we heard a little tapping coming from the kitchen. It was so faint I almost didn't go to investigate but Beau was already on it before I could turn around and go back to sleep.
The wooden spoon I had left on the floor for Beau to lick clean had now been dragged to front of my dishwasher and inside the little hole under my washer were little eyes starring back at me. I found the mouse! I put a sticky pad in front of the hole and placed the spoon just beyond it and left the room to wait.
It didn't take very long before I could hear something happening, this time is was more aggressive, the mouse was stuck to the pad and trying so desperately to free his little body. He was screaming and wiggling with all of this might and he would stop to take a breath and look at me with fear in his eyes. It broke my heart, I didn't want it to happen like this, I didn't want to see him die.
I decided that I needed to act. I worked the spoon under him, trying not to touch him with my hands but it didn't work, the spoon just got stuck to the pad and in my attempt to free the mouse I just ended up getting more of his fur and little hands stuck. He was squeaking and breathing so fast. I couldn't do anything, I looked at Beau to fix it and asked him to just kill it, put it out of its misery.
Beau proved to be stupid and of course showed no interest in the squeaking thing I was holding. I ended up putting it outside with the spoon still stuck to the pad. I just couldn't watch it struggle to escape anymore. I am sure that a cat or bird got it...
By this point I was crying my eyes out. I called Pam and left a message and then I called my mom, she answered. She couldn't understand what I was saying and tried guessing why I was so upset, I could hear worry in her voice and my dad in the background. She thought something terrible happened to Ryan. No, it was just a mouse, she understood why I was sad about it though, she gets me. My dad jokingly offered to drive to Alabama to take care of it for me, he is a sweety.
So that is the story of the mouse I almost killed. I don't think that it was taking a life that upset me so much but more torture, even it was just a mouse we are talking about, it still made a pretty significant impact on me.