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this post was submitted on 04 Mar 2025
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We had a family or two of mice living under our kitchen a few months back. We ended up killing 13 total. It was horrible. I hate killing things, even if there’s no better way to deal with them as pests. It just broke my heart every time.
Now their hole is stuffed with steel wool and sealed with foam though, so I think we should be safe from their return.
I was sad for like the first 6, in a "Dammit, you poor little bastards, you didn't have to die, you just couldn't live here."
After that? I rejoiced when I'd hear a mousetrap snap shut.
There's only so much skittering in the ceilings a sleep-deprived man can take before murderous rage replaces animal empathy. I thought we'd rid ourselves of all of them three times now. Each time, a few months past and the fucks are at it again. The landlord has tried an exterminator - though I use the term lightly, as all he did was put down some poison bait. Not sure if it worked.
It seems to be a local problem, though. Just the other day I found dead mice on the sidewalk several streets away, too far to be our's. C'est la vie.