Booyah!

Oh yeah. Oooooh yeah. Last night J and I were watching an episode of '24,' a new favorite of ours. We were sipping decaf and I was trying to unwind from a difficult day. Suddenly we heard a loud snap! and squealing. We ran into the living room and there he was. A jumbo-sized, bright-eyed, mouse-like thing. I say mouse-like because it really didn't look like any mouse I'd ever seen. We had already killed it's cousin (see below posts). Now it was his turn.

I admit to you that I felt a stab of remorse as we drowned him five minutes later. A stab, not an overwhelming weight, mind you. I love my husband a little more than I did two days ago, though, because he felt terrible. Don't misunderstand, he hates rodents with a fierce passion. But when he saw Mouse-Thing drowning (and the man could not tear himself away from the death scene), he felt guilty, sort-of.

I reminded him that if we let the varmint go, he'd come straight back into our apartment. He would poop everywhere...He had to be removed permanently. As Jack Bauer would say, we had ourselves a situation. And then I reminded him that this wasn't my first go-around with rodent killing. It gets easier. Some of you may remember that about a year ago, I killed a large, long-toothed mole with white eyes. I felt bad about it, even as my grateful friends called me a rock star. It was repulsive. But I got over it. And this time I only cringed a little.

As I told my husband last night, it was Mouse-Thing or me, y'all. Him or me.