This beautiful moment is brought to you by rodents.

Yesterday morning, as I gathered my things in my giant pink bag, ready to head to work, I heard the little unnerving noise that stops me in my tracks.
Squeak.  Squeak. 
Maybe it’s some birds outside.  After all, the weather has been insanely mild this winter and the birdies are out flying around.  I dismiss it at first because I need to get out the door. 
Squeak.  Squeak. 
No, it is not coming from outside.  I turn with widened eyes towards the electrical box in our large kitchen.  I swiftly pull the door open.
Not one, but two tiny mice are stuck in the glue trap.  One is not moving, and the other freezes, staring at me with its round black eye. 
I close the door and walk away. 
It is not that I am overly afraid of mice or rats.  It is just the notion that they are inside my walls.  Since I have not handled the glue traps before, I called the Mister to ask what to do.
“If you don’t mind, take the trap outside,” he said. I agreed to.  “It’s too bad we no longer have Oli, our hunter.” 
Yes, it is awful that he is no longer with us, our master mouse catcher.  I began missing him horribly.  So I took the oath to dispose of the vermin. 
I opened the electrical box once more, peering down at the two mice whose bodies were no bigger than my thumb.  I had one of those “aaaawwwwww” moments and stared at them with pity.  They were quite cute and so little and helpless.  I felt dreadful about sending them outside to a death by starvation or by consumption of a predator. 
But then I remember why I don’t like rodents.  They crawl into my walls.  They chew things.  They poop in my walls.  They mate in my walls.  Then their babies are in the walls, chewing and pooping and mating.
Sorry little guys, out you go.