I Think

I once had a friend who hated Peggy Lee for recording Fever. He felt her cover of Little Willie John's song was stealing from the man, because she sold so many more records of it than he and was remembered for it the most. I told him, I listen to both versions as if they were two totally different songs, and that I love them both.

Little Willie's record did well on rhythm and blues markets and he also got royalties from Peggy's records. And, now that time has passed, more people recognize him for the song than they did in the past. I don't see any victims here.

bump

Je pense: donc je suis...

English, please.

I think, therefore I am?

I don't think, therefore I ain't.

I think poisoned mice ought to die, but they don't always. I gave some blocks of Tom's, which looks just like Decon, to my resident mouse. It walks around four days later, late at night, leaving droppings the same color as the blocks of poison. This time I set two traps, baited with peanut butter and bread. I wired the traps in place, to keep them from flipping out to a spot Rocky can reach. I bet the rascal does not go around leaving peanut butter droppings.

You're fighting the good fight. Let us know when you succeed.

I actually like mice, and have a history of dismay with them. My last research lab had them when I first got invited there, when the place was sort of blank, some desks, me to be head tech. Later some equipment. I wasn't involved, that I know of, but one day there was a bad smell.

Me, I've anosmia, but I could see the ruckus. (I was later the one to be recruited to deal with 2 mercapto ethanol).

Rats, I'm more scared of, but I've friends who kept them as pets.

Young rats are cute, well to me.

I actually like mice, and have a history of dismay with them. My last research lab had them when I first got invited there, when the place was sort of blank, some desks, me to be head tech. Later some equipment. I wasn't involved, that I know of, but one day there was a bad smell.

Me, I've anosmia, but I could see the ruckus. (I was later the one to be recruited to deal with 2 mercapto ethanol).

Decades later, I had a few of them in my house in northern california. I caught them via a device, but I also hoped they went away. I don't mind if they live around me, just not in my kitchen.

This one gets on my stove and kitchen bar. It must be made dead. I like mice, in the right setting, also. But this one has worn out its welcome.

I have some mice traps if you want them, one or two, have to look, not sure. Simple, it involves electricity and peanut butter. I thought I might need them here, but no, for about ten years here. I'll send them to you if you want.

A few days ago, I would have said, yes. But, my new traps should do the job, tonight. Thanks for offering.

An update. The mouse was a rat. I nailed it last night with a sticky trap. I hate sticky traps, because they prolong the brutality associated with killing an animal. But, my other attempts failed. It is out of its misery, now.

Mission accomplished !!

Your trophy, if you may.

I am ashamed of my part in the killing of the rat. When I worked at the apartments, it was part of my job to kill mice and rats caught on sticky traps. It was a debasing enterprise and exceptionally cruel, in my view. So, when I saw the rat on the sticky trap the other morning, I could not bring myself to outright kill it. I wish now I had taken it deep in the country and released it. I wrapped it in plastic and put it in the garbage can, feeling it would quickly smother to death. I even put a heavy bag of garbage on top to make sure the air was cut off. The next morning, we discovered that the rat had gotten off of the sticky trap and was roaming freely at the bottom. I ended up crushing it with a ten pound sledge.

I have a rat history.
Back tomorrow, remind me if I forget.

Such heart, edgar. You surprised me with that ten pound sledge. I think a three pounder would have sufficed.

I don't own a three.

Ugh. And his brothers and sisters are gonna come a-looking.

Hang in there, ed: it's a job: It's a job...