A Sequel to the Mouse Hunt
Early this morning, I checked our traps and found a very dead little mouse – even the tail board-stiff in rigor mortis. The little creature had eaten perhaps a third of the chocolate button bait when the wire came down. Burial was immediate in our weed-waste garden. An angry gale whipped the trees to frenzied motion, the pre-dawn interral lit by a waning moon that floated in a weirdly clear sky. I felt like a murderer.