Stuart Little Must Die

There is a mouse living under our refrigerator. I know this because last night, while curled up in my favorite reading chair, a small squeak caused me to look up and lock eyes with the Stuart Little look-a-like. I expected him to retreat back under the fridge, but no. That brazen bugger actually took a few steps toward me.

I was so shocked (first to see a mouse, then to see a mouse actually coming at me) that I sort of unconsciously mumbled, “What the …” Stuart Little paused for a moment, never breaking eye contact, then took ANOTHER STEP TOWARD ME. I’m pretty sure if he could speak he would have repeated those immortal Taxi Driver words, “You talkin’ to me? You talkin’ to me?”

I must admit: part of me appreciated his DeNiro-esque swagger. Perhaps we could live with just one little furry mouse. After all, this one has spunk.

Then I consulted my friend Leanne who has eradicated several mouse infestations in horse barns. According to Leanne, mice aren’t loners. If you see one you have at least 10 more. Ewwww. Then she reminded me that mice are dirty, disease-carrying critters that will quickly make our home an unhygienic hazard for our toddler.

So I knew the mouse (mice?) had to go, but I still felt guilty about killing him (them?). Until I found this: http://www.popsci.com/environment/article/2008-05/killer-mice-gough-island

Mice on Gough Island are eating Albatross chicks ALIVE. The chicks are quite large but immobile and they are alone. Their parents are apparently gone for long periods of time looking for food. At night, groups of mice gang up on the chicks and take tiny bites of them until the chicks bleed to death.

So that’s all she wrote for Stuart Little. His cuteness has been tainted. Those barbarians on Gough he calls brethren have sealed his fate.