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Remember that meme awhile ago about which DiscWorld character you were supposed to be? I think I came up as Carrot. Well, today the Real World has told me who I really am. I am the Death of Rats. Yup, sad but true.
We start with my noticing that the school pet rat has a swollen jaw again. So I made an emergency appointment with the vet, who took one look and said, "This rat has a tumor. He needs to be euthanized." So I signed the forms (after making certain they do the painless method that involves the lethal injection AFTER the animal has been put to sleep -honest, some places just stick a needle in their hearts to stop it beating while they are fully conscious - research is good, if icky) and the poor old rat was put to sleep. That was One.
I get back to the office and agree that the sticky traps the caretaker is putting out to deal with the tiny mice problem (the mice are tiny, the problem is huge) are completely inhumane, since the little fuzzy beasts get glued to them and simply sit there, panting in terror until they die hours later. I agree, which suddenly means that *I* am baiting the quick-kill traps to be placed in the classrooms and under the rabbit cage. I sit there, smearing peanut butter on the bait bits and wondering why I went into religious education in the first place. I put out the traps and perversely hope that nothing gets caught. That's number Two.
When I put the traps under the rabbit cage, I find a damned sticky trap with two live mice stuck to it and one dead one. I can't leave them to a sticky end (I know, I know - gross) and I can't seem to whack them quickly and decisively on the head ot propel them to the next karmic level. But I remember that, when I worked at the Live Animal Center, we used to gas mice and rats with a fire extinguisher before feeding them to the reptiles. Why, I have a fire extinguisher in my office!
One garbage bag and a carefully deposited sticky tray of mice later, I am ready to become the Grim Reaper of Rodents in person. I do everything the way we used to -- mice in bag, bag held tight around the nozzle, carefully depress the handle... and shoot the poor stuck mice and their tray and most of the bag across the room in a cloud of fast-moving halon. Alas, a halon extinguisher is NOT the same as a CO2 extinguisher. The mice have not died yet from head trauma, so I got another, stronger bag and tried again, figuring that halon gas is still poisonous, more or less, and the lack of oxygen is bound to kill one of us soon.
Of course, it is at this pivotal moment...
(imagine a soundtrack of /Whoosh!/ "Dammit! Die you little bastards!" /WHOOOOOSSSSHHHH!/ "What's it gonna take?! I have a hammer!" /Whoosh!/)
... that the rabbi wanders by with a group of visiting Lutherans interested in seeing how Jews live and worship.
Right about then, the mice gave up the ghost. It's hard to be dignified while standing there holding a tray full of dead mice coated in halon and a few exploded garbage bags. In such a situation, it is very hard to look like a woman who is serious and thoughtful about her three thousand year old faith and its tenets. I'd like to think that I managed it. I'd also like to think that I am tall, blonde and Swedish, but we all know how well that works out.
So that was Rodent Death Incident #3. I think I need a black hood, a scythe and a skeletal hunk of cheese.
On the health front, I am down an entire .2 lbs this week. Of course, the average is still -2lbs/week, but still. More salad! Of course, if I contemplate any more of today's adventures with the order Rodentia, I will find it pretty easy to eschew food.
We start with my noticing that the school pet rat has a swollen jaw again. So I made an emergency appointment with the vet, who took one look and said, "This rat has a tumor. He needs to be euthanized." So I signed the forms (after making certain they do the painless method that involves the lethal injection AFTER the animal has been put to sleep -honest, some places just stick a needle in their hearts to stop it beating while they are fully conscious - research is good, if icky) and the poor old rat was put to sleep. That was One.
I get back to the office and agree that the sticky traps the caretaker is putting out to deal with the tiny mice problem (the mice are tiny, the problem is huge) are completely inhumane, since the little fuzzy beasts get glued to them and simply sit there, panting in terror until they die hours later. I agree, which suddenly means that *I* am baiting the quick-kill traps to be placed in the classrooms and under the rabbit cage. I sit there, smearing peanut butter on the bait bits and wondering why I went into religious education in the first place. I put out the traps and perversely hope that nothing gets caught. That's number Two.
When I put the traps under the rabbit cage, I find a damned sticky trap with two live mice stuck to it and one dead one. I can't leave them to a sticky end (I know, I know - gross) and I can't seem to whack them quickly and decisively on the head ot propel them to the next karmic level. But I remember that, when I worked at the Live Animal Center, we used to gas mice and rats with a fire extinguisher before feeding them to the reptiles. Why, I have a fire extinguisher in my office!
One garbage bag and a carefully deposited sticky tray of mice later, I am ready to become the Grim Reaper of Rodents in person. I do everything the way we used to -- mice in bag, bag held tight around the nozzle, carefully depress the handle... and shoot the poor stuck mice and their tray and most of the bag across the room in a cloud of fast-moving halon. Alas, a halon extinguisher is NOT the same as a CO2 extinguisher. The mice have not died yet from head trauma, so I got another, stronger bag and tried again, figuring that halon gas is still poisonous, more or less, and the lack of oxygen is bound to kill one of us soon.
Of course, it is at this pivotal moment...
(imagine a soundtrack of /Whoosh!/ "Dammit! Die you little bastards!" /WHOOOOOSSSSHHHH!/ "What's it gonna take?! I have a hammer!" /Whoosh!/)
... that the rabbi wanders by with a group of visiting Lutherans interested in seeing how Jews live and worship.
Right about then, the mice gave up the ghost. It's hard to be dignified while standing there holding a tray full of dead mice coated in halon and a few exploded garbage bags. In such a situation, it is very hard to look like a woman who is serious and thoughtful about her three thousand year old faith and its tenets. I'd like to think that I managed it. I'd also like to think that I am tall, blonde and Swedish, but we all know how well that works out.
So that was Rodent Death Incident #3. I think I need a black hood, a scythe and a skeletal hunk of cheese.
On the health front, I am down an entire .2 lbs this week. Of course, the average is still -2lbs/week, but still. More salad! Of course, if I contemplate any more of today's adventures with the order Rodentia, I will find it pretty easy to eschew food.
melancholy
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