A Herriman Herald article that never printed

I've been begging the Herriman Herald to let me have a column. They didn't agree, but I wrote a column-like article. This is it.

My Autumn Woe

I love the onset of autumn. The crisp air, the leaves turning color and fumbling to the ground, wearing sweaters, and Halloween decorations. I fasten the doors just a little more quickly this time of year. Not because I'm worried about the cold seeping into my house; rather, I do it because I'm trying to seal out my long-time enemy, the mouse.

It's this time of year that the mice start planning ahead for the cold, hard winter ahead. First, they move into the hidden crevices behind the stagnant lawnmower or the bulk bottles of weed killer you set aside until next spring. Then they—I'll never understand how—find their way into your basements, your couches, your bathroom drawers, your pantries.

First, you detect some large specks of dirt that keep reappearing in the same place. Wait, that's bigger than just your ordinary dirt. Those are mouse droppings. You're on high alert. You start planning your revenge and can't stop until you've exterminated him.

Our visits from these not-so-cuddly guests seem to be an annual event at my house. We've tried everything in the book.

I started out more sympathetic to the little guys. As my husband says, "They're just trying to make it in the big world." I researched the most humane ways to force them out of my living space—soundwave plug-in devices that are designed to agitate the mice and warn them it's time to leave. I dropped close to $50 equipping each room in my house with these devices, to no avail.

Next, I tried the glue trap, which is baited with scent and supposed to hold the mouse within its gooey confines until you can release it out into the wild again.

But the most effective tool for ridding your house of these pesky little guys is the traditional wooden trap. You know, the one that's been around since your grandparents were young. The kind on which you put peanut butter, cheese, even chocolate to lure them toward it. Then whack, they never even know what hit them.

I suppose that's why after all these years, the mice never seem to wise up. The traps are so effective, they never get a chance to warn their friends. It's all over for them.

The worst part is opening up the pantry door to see a motionless brown lump with long pink tail hanging limp behind. As I said, I've been dealing with this problem for years. I remember when my daughter, who's five now, was nearly two when she opened the bathroom drawer and exclaimed, "Mouse is sleeping."

You can only hope it's not too messy. Although I find a morbid satisfaction with finally capturing him, I wish there could have been another way. A more humane way.

But let's face it. We just want them out of our space. So that you don't go crazy in the middle of the night when you hear a little scratching in your bathroom and you get up for hours until you've gone through each drawer, wiping them down, by which time the mouse is long gone in a safe and secluded spot leaving droppings in another room in your house.

This is an age-old problem. One we'll be dealing with until the end of time. Herriman is definitely no exception. As for me, I'm making sure I'm stocked up on the cheapest mouse trap around, the most inhumane of mouse traps, the traditional mousetrap.