….is actually a mole.
Let me tell you about this
poor little guy nasty thing whose coffin is my attempt to be organized with Christmas cards but alas am not.
We had a mouse trap. The kind where you catch them alive and you must “dispose” of them (read stab with a pitchfork in the garbage can and defend your actions to your wife by saying, “well now it can’t come in the house anymore.” Okay, I’ll allow it. I wanted to say “Tru dat,”but I would have sounded like my ghetto wanna be friend, Tad, who says “word” about most everything. hee hee! You’re the best, Tad!)
We caught the mouse!
I mean, Chris, caught the mouse!
After he put the trap outside, the mouse escaped to save itself from a death by hypothermia.
So Chris bought a new mousetrap. A different kind of live mouse trap.
We caught the mouse.
It was a mole!
We caught the mole!
Chris put the trap outside by the garage so that he could dispose of the mole after he returned from work.
It escaped to save itself from a death by hypothermia.
(Are you detecting a pattern?)
Chris then stated he was going to wash it up and return it because obviously it didn’t work.
However, he thought he would give it one last try.
He caught the mole again!
I heard it!
We have hot water heat in our house so when the hot water is running through the pipes, you hear banging and clanging.
I heard banging and clanging only it was coming from the kitchen where we don’t have heat registers. So I sat grossed out and frozen on the chair holding my coughing Princess Pea in the middle of the night.
Apparently, he was caught.
Apparently, he escaped (knowing that he would be exposed to a homicide attempt by hypothermia).
So Chris washed it up, returned it, and bought a really cool looking live trap where the critter steps on the trigger and the whole trap mechanism moves and sweeps the unwelcomed guest into the trap. It looked kind of cool.
Five minutes after Chris set the trap, he was caught.
This time, “knowing” he was finally secured in the trap, Chris put the entire trap into a giant ziploc bag and put it all into the basement freezer.
Finally! Death by hypothermia. Accomplished!
Oh, wait! Did I just say that my husband killed a mole in my freezer where we keep food?
You go, honey! *sheepish praise!*
He then transferred the finally-dead critter into my poor attempt to organize my life and threw it out in the snow where I saw it for the first time upon returning from the grocery store!
Entire body shivers!
And now there is a trap sitting on my cutting board waiting to be used for the next victim!
Because I am convinced we are infested!