"Wee sleekit cow'rin, tim'rous beastie,
O, what a panic's in thy breastie!
Thou need na start awa sae hasty,
Wi' bickering brattle!
I wad be laith to rin an' chase thee,
Wi' murd'ring pattle!"
Burns wrote these words in November 1785, having disturbed a mouse's nest while ploughing. He was obviously fonder of this rodent than I am of the ones I have at home.
When I got home yesterday afternoon, I baited my new, high-tech mouse-trap with peanut butter, and placed it in a cupboard, near the pipes where the animals emerge. When I looked this morning I saw a mouse dangling from the upturned trap. I was so pleased that the trap had worked, and that I hadn't wasted any more money. At the same time I felt sorry for the mouse, and horrible for having killed it. I do hope that its death was instantaneous, and that it didn't suffer.
I cleaned and disinfected the area, and re-set the trap in a different place. That mouse's friends and relations are sure to be nearby. Mice don't come in ones.
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