The Progeny
Notes of Pestilence
(NOT for the weak of stomach)
What is it like, being an Animal Control Officer, you ask? Let us take a peek into the life of one such person: Ma Hoyt.
When one spends each day within the proximity of unwanted critters, the five senses become finely attuned, not unlike a Stradivarius. This is why, when Ma laid her weary body down for a quick snooze the other day, the nose went on alert, even as the eyelids drooped.
Was it just her imagination? Or was there the faint whiff of "dead mouse" in the air? This being rather incompatible with true relaxation, she roused herself from blissful rest and checked an old mouse trap in the bedroom's corner.
It was indeed sprung, with a small furry body of suspiciously rodential character residing within. All thoughts of repose now fled, as the primary mission of mouse removal took precedence. Luckily, the small beast had not yet begun to jellify. (trust me, you don't wanna come home from vacation and find something which was caught on the day you left....)
By the time these ministrations are performed, other duties call and any hope of supine sanctuary is but a fleeting memory.
_______________
It is now night time and the husband and wife are mere seconds away from peaceful slumber. Suddenly, a resounding "SNAP!" is heard..."What's that?....A floor joist?....another rib?....oh...one of THEM."
It is indeed a mouse, and rather lively....at least, the top half of him, anyway. And thus, an irrevocable chain of events is initiated: the donning of the bathrobe, the clumping of the stairway, the "denouement of da mousemeat."
"C'est la vie, ma Ma."
________________
It is the very next morning, and Ma awakens early, to transport her high school brainiacs to their annual testing adventure. (Walking down public school hallways where most everyone is twice your height is not for the faint of heart)
But stay! What be this scuffling in yon corner? 'Tis a-nother "squeaker," caught by two lonely digits. Alas, poor mouse, thine end is near. And it's probably good that I didn't know thee well.
Of sympathy I know little. For places have I to go, people have I to see....and
vermin....
just gotta....
be snuffed. Tweet
What is it like, being an Animal Control Officer, you ask? Let us take a peek into the life of one such person: Ma Hoyt.
When one spends each day within the proximity of unwanted critters, the five senses become finely attuned, not unlike a Stradivarius. This is why, when Ma laid her weary body down for a quick snooze the other day, the nose went on alert, even as the eyelids drooped.
Was it just her imagination? Or was there the faint whiff of "dead mouse" in the air? This being rather incompatible with true relaxation, she roused herself from blissful rest and checked an old mouse trap in the bedroom's corner.
It was indeed sprung, with a small furry body of suspiciously rodential character residing within. All thoughts of repose now fled, as the primary mission of mouse removal took precedence. Luckily, the small beast had not yet begun to jellify. (trust me, you don't wanna come home from vacation and find something which was caught on the day you left....)
By the time these ministrations are performed, other duties call and any hope of supine sanctuary is but a fleeting memory.
_______________
It is now night time and the husband and wife are mere seconds away from peaceful slumber. Suddenly, a resounding "SNAP!" is heard..."What's that?....A floor joist?....another rib?....oh...one of THEM."
It is indeed a mouse, and rather lively....at least, the top half of him, anyway. And thus, an irrevocable chain of events is initiated: the donning of the bathrobe, the clumping of the stairway, the "denouement of da mousemeat."
"C'est la vie, ma Ma."
________________
It is the very next morning, and Ma awakens early, to transport her high school brainiacs to their annual testing adventure. (Walking down public school hallways where most everyone is twice your height is not for the faint of heart)
But stay! What be this scuffling in yon corner? 'Tis a-nother "squeaker," caught by two lonely digits. Alas, poor mouse, thine end is near. And it's probably good that I didn't know thee well.
Of sympathy I know little. For places have I to go, people have I to see....and
vermin....
just gotta....
be snuffed. Tweet
posted by Ma Hoyt | 4:55 PM
3 Comments:
Those poor mice have mothers too. You really ought to consider them and their numerous dead relatives whose blood is on your hands.
Oh yeah? Well, I'm still trying to bring justice to the world for the sins of the plague-spreaders.
Mice/rats = disease
I'm thinkin' about making a bumper sticker..."Justice--One Mouse At a Time"
It's all about JOMAT
I agree with the Vengeful Cynic. After all, they're just another animal, like all the rest. And aren't we often the ones that create nasty places where house mice can pick of disease.
-Derek
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