The mouse

It was after midnight when we arrived at the beach house in Virginia on Sunday (well technically Monday I guess). It’s located at the end of a dark, desolate road that Hal’s grandmother aptly describes as spooky, especially at night. The house itself was lit up, a comforting welcome at the end of a long trip.

When Ariel, Hal’s aunt, is there we’re usually greeted by her dogs, but this time we were met with just the sound of the waves hitting the beach. That alone seemed to make the drive worth it.

The house had been vacant for a while and it was somewhat evident of that, but we didn’t care. There were beds waiting for us, and the beach was a stone’s throw away. What more could we need?

We were just about to head up to bed when I saw it, a small mouse that had gotten stuck to one of those sticky pad traps (the worst kind by the way). The poor little mouse with its huge terrified eyes was helplessly scrambling to get his two back feet free from this torture trap. Hal and I looked at each other and we both knew we needed to help it. They say there’s no rest for the weary; well, there’s also no rest for the guilt stricken.

A few months ago, Hal had actually researched how to remove a mouse from a sticky pad after this very situation occurred at my office. Unfortunately, that mouse’s fate was doomed at the time, since none of us thought to Google how to save a mouse from the most inhumane trap in existence. But this time, Hal and I were armed with a solution.

Canola oil. Hal had read that cooking oil would release the mouse from the trap so we carried everything outside and I attempted to dab his little feet with the oil. Even though his feet managed to become unstuck, he started to scramble rapidly causing other parts of his body to stick to the pad. What an unfortunate sight. Eventually, we just poured the oil onto the pad in hopes that the underside of his body would become so coated he’d just slip right off. And indeed, this tiny fur ball broke free! I “Yay-ed” with glee and much relief. Of course, after all that the first thing the mouse tried to do was run back inside the house, unsuccessfully. Crisis (and guilt) averted.

The next morning, we awoke to a cool breeze and the serenity of the beach, and the hope that the little mouse was also enjoying another day of scurrying about along the sand.