We Are Not Alone

I have a new roommate. His name is Mickey. I've had worse roommates, but I've also had better. Mickey is happiest when I'm not home. When I am, he keeps to himself, only going from room to room when he thinks I'm not paying attention. He also has an annoying habit of pooping on the floor.

Mickey is the mouse I acquired during my neighbor's recent renovations. All New York buildings have creepy, crawly critters lurking behind their aging walls, and my pre-war space is no different. These four-legged foes seek warmth, sustenance and quiet surroundings. So when the pounding of walls and screeching of power tools started last week, they thought, Hmmm, where can we go? This is when they all scurried right into my pleasant little apartment. I caught two right away, after which I called the landlord, who sent the exterminator to plug up every hole we could locate. He used foam that expands and hardens to fill gaps, glue traps and blocks of poison strategically placed in out-of-the-way spots.

But Mickey...he was smart. He was already inside, and he had no intention of being caught.

I saw him fly across the floor a couple times, weaving his way around the long line of glue traps I had added over the course of the week. From the amount of traps, it looked like I was living in a crack den with an extensive infestation, rather than targeting one evil rodent.

The entrance to my living room, also known as "Glue Trap Alley"

Mickey began taunting me. He left droppings directly on the glue traps and still managed to walk free, which should have been impossible. I accidentally flipped a couple of those bad boys glue-side down on my hardwood floors, and let me tell you -- it was a nightmare, trying to remove the residue. And here was Mickey, using them as a bathroom and casually going about his business.

(Dear PETA, please do not complain about my use of "inhumane" glue traps. I tried other contraptions that don't harm the mice -- but they also didn't catch the mice. I respect animals, but I reserve the right to defend my home from unlawful intruders. Also, I enjoy foie gras, wear fur and eat veal.)

I went away for the weekend, and upon my departure I suspect Mickey said, "Finally, she's gone! I get the place all to myself!"

In his excitement, he got sloppy.

I walked into my bathroom last night and saw what I thought was dust behind the toilet. I looked closer and noticed it was green dust. In the middle was the bar of poison, a quarter of which was eaten. Like the evil queen from Sleeping Beauty, I laughed gloriously, thrilled that Mickey had taken my bait.

Sleep tight, sweet Mickey...