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Volunteering in the DR


DOMINICAN REPUBLIC | Thursday, 17 June 2010 | Views [890] | Comments [1]

Apparently I am sharing my house. There is a third bedroom which is locked and I don´t have access to. Since the room is mainly used for storage, everything is game in there. I first noticed my roommate while I was washing the dishes. Something dark scurried past my feet and down the hall. It was too big for a roach, even the flying ones, and so I did a double take. I saw fur and a tail. I freaked, but kept with the dishes. I kept thinking <out of sight, out of mind> and went about the rest of my day. Next time I saw him I was sitting reading at the table and it popped out and ran towards the kitchen. Brave little sucker. I kept reading. I debated: a cat (might be messy), rat poison (what if it dies in the locked room and I am stuck with the stench until it completely rots away, plus the roaches and ants it will bring) or sticky pads. Sticky pads it is. I bought two and the man that sold them to me said they worked and he would come by to help me dispose of it. I have been in the country too long to know that a simple remark could insinuate many things, so I knew this was going to be up to me, sort of. I scrubbed the house down and put a trap down when I knew Lenin would be over so that I wouldn´t have to deal with it alone. Smart. That week was patronales in the park (which translates to beer-rum-alchohol tents and loud music-perfomers for a week.) Living a block away from the park, I was obliged to attend. In the middle of one of the concerts a few of us had to pee, so we came back to my house. I saw something dark under the table where my trap was. I turned on the light and there he was: stuck, trapped. Yay! I was super excited, I had gotten him at last. I had to take a picture. I was proud, even though all I had done was peel the plastic off the pad. I went back to the park and proudly told the others of my catch. They weren´t too impressed, especially because one of the guys was an expert at catching. He told me his method of disposing: drowing it, as it is more humane than hitting it with a rock as others do. Plus, mice are smart, and when one is in trouble, they call out for each other, and so if I was really lucky, I would catch more than one. I was doubtful. I only had one. When I got back to the house, I went to show my catch and there were now two stuck. I had convinced myself I would only have one, that the one I had seen was the same one. Now, who knew how many were in the house. My uninvited guests. Lenin dropped them into a plastic bag and threw it in a trash can down the street. I didnt want to leave them near my house in case they escaped, or the cat I could hear meowing outside my door would mash them to pieces. A slower death, I know, but I just couldnt bear to watch them drowned or smashed. A couple of days later, I put another trap in the same area and I caught yet another one. Damn. This time I was alone, and the sticky pad had been out a few days so it wasn´t as sticky. I made my breakfast and coffee and sat down to read again, facing the trap to keep an eye on it until I felt brave enough to pick up. The little guy was strong. He was thrashing about and squeaking and managed to get his front legs and face off the trap and was dragging the trap behind him. I feared he would get away and so I scared him with my dustpan back on to the trap and he was stuck. No time like the present. I picked him up and dropped him in the bag and rushed him outside. The bag was moving. It was raining, I was still in my pj´s but didn´t want him to make his way back in. He was a strong little sucker. I ran him down the street and placed him in the trash can. Now if he gets out, he won´t be my guest anymore. He can find his way to a different home. So three mice, and now I am pretty sure there are more. Going to buy more traps. Now when I walk into the room I look everywhere, and even though my bladder feels like it is going to burst during the night, I avoid the bathroom just in case their family is out for revenge.

I told my friend about this and she said it sounded like I was in confession and sounded guilty for killing. It made me laugh. I don´t like trapping and suffocating them, but I don´t want them in my house. When I told my mom, she flat out called me a killer! What am I to do? Invite them all in and have a party?

As you can see, my first two guests. The third, i didn´t take a picture. They all look the same.



So when did you become immune to the little suckers, I get the shivers and goosebumps, just thinking about what you have to do. Yuckkkk, get rid of them.

  Lydia Jul 28, 2010 11:42 AM

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