The thought of killing, especially poisoning, live animals seems unbelievably cruel. But its different for rodents
On Wednesday, around 3am, I hear someone stomping in my bedroom, wearing enormous boots.
” Argh! AGH !!!”
All I have to defend myself with is a hardback copy of Cloudstreet from the library, which I lunge at the person.
By the time I turn on the light, I realise it is much worse than a person: it is a mouse.
I have a phobia- Greek word meaning irrational fear or dread.
It’s always been there( had there been a rat in my cot ?) but it worsened 10 years ago camping in the west McDonnell Ranges during a mouse plague.
We were sleeping in swags on camp beds on the ground. Hundreds- or was it thousands?- of mice would come to the camp at night, trying to get into the food, and anywhere warm. It was like free immersion therapy: I would be woken by mouse operating through my hair, mice in the swag, mice crawling up my legs. Shine your torch on the ground and there was an inland sea of them, a gross moving mice-carpet on the ground.