<p>I stood poised “Onake Obbava” style, a club in hand looking rather ferociously at three small faces peering up pitifully. They were stuck to the new device I had just purchased to experiment with. All their antics seemed to stand still in time as both of us glared at each other. What damage hadn’t they caused from stealing to scraping and finally spoiling the washing machine, that too, when guests were about to arrive. <br /><br /></p>.<p>All conventional methods of trapping had been exhausted and my patience was at its peak. So while these beauties sat on a resin-lathered paper captioned “I am stuck, this is a trap,” I was delighted. ‘One, two, three,’ I counted before finally taking the plunge. But then, ‘Gero-nimo Stilton’ suddenly flashed before my eyes. I lowered my club to introspect. <br /><br />Stuck to the paper were three mice who had wrecked havoc in my house. It had been a week-long hunt for these mischief makers who had managed to escape every trap I had set for them. “Roban” was old hat as it never worked, the rodents’ intelligent minds had already mastered how to undo the rat trap; so what remained was this new device the mechanic who came to repair the washing machine had told me about. <br /><br />The hardest part of this contraption was disposing the mice off; for, the only options were to hit them with a club, pour hot water on them or peel them off the sticky paper, and all these made me feel terribly inhumane especially after enjoying the series of “Geronimo Stilton” that stars an entire mice family and all their escapades. It is but genius how author has written about the species, making them all nearly human to a point where one finally becomes a part of Geronimo and his extended family. <br /><br />Coming back, I looked at these three. What do I do? Should I drive up to a secluded spot and leave them there? The shrill ring of the phone interrupted my thoughts after which I got caught up in a multitude of chores and put aside ‘Mission Disposal’ of the three mice.<br />When my daughter returned from school that day, “Ooooo, how cute! Oh Mama, can they be my pets? They are so adorable! Maybe, Geronimo’s grand nephews and nieces,” she crooned . “Isn’t it sad, Mama, that they are used in experiments and all that!” she continued. <br /><br />She went on about the atrocities committed on these unfortunate few and started petting the mice. I told her the harm they had caused, to which she had solutions like using a strong disinfectant to keep them at bay or giving them something to make them unconscious so we could just leave them far away. <br /><br />Her words made me reflect again. These mice had been saved because of a little child who had sought solutions to rid the house of them while not killing them. If such child-like minds ruled our nations, how many lives and families could be saved. Some food for thought!<br /></p>
<p>I stood poised “Onake Obbava” style, a club in hand looking rather ferociously at three small faces peering up pitifully. They were stuck to the new device I had just purchased to experiment with. All their antics seemed to stand still in time as both of us glared at each other. What damage hadn’t they caused from stealing to scraping and finally spoiling the washing machine, that too, when guests were about to arrive. <br /><br /></p>.<p>All conventional methods of trapping had been exhausted and my patience was at its peak. So while these beauties sat on a resin-lathered paper captioned “I am stuck, this is a trap,” I was delighted. ‘One, two, three,’ I counted before finally taking the plunge. But then, ‘Gero-nimo Stilton’ suddenly flashed before my eyes. I lowered my club to introspect. <br /><br />Stuck to the paper were three mice who had wrecked havoc in my house. It had been a week-long hunt for these mischief makers who had managed to escape every trap I had set for them. “Roban” was old hat as it never worked, the rodents’ intelligent minds had already mastered how to undo the rat trap; so what remained was this new device the mechanic who came to repair the washing machine had told me about. <br /><br />The hardest part of this contraption was disposing the mice off; for, the only options were to hit them with a club, pour hot water on them or peel them off the sticky paper, and all these made me feel terribly inhumane especially after enjoying the series of “Geronimo Stilton” that stars an entire mice family and all their escapades. It is but genius how author has written about the species, making them all nearly human to a point where one finally becomes a part of Geronimo and his extended family. <br /><br />Coming back, I looked at these three. What do I do? Should I drive up to a secluded spot and leave them there? The shrill ring of the phone interrupted my thoughts after which I got caught up in a multitude of chores and put aside ‘Mission Disposal’ of the three mice.<br />When my daughter returned from school that day, “Ooooo, how cute! Oh Mama, can they be my pets? They are so adorable! Maybe, Geronimo’s grand nephews and nieces,” she crooned . “Isn’t it sad, Mama, that they are used in experiments and all that!” she continued. <br /><br />She went on about the atrocities committed on these unfortunate few and started petting the mice. I told her the harm they had caused, to which she had solutions like using a strong disinfectant to keep them at bay or giving them something to make them unconscious so we could just leave them far away. <br /><br />Her words made me reflect again. These mice had been saved because of a little child who had sought solutions to rid the house of them while not killing them. If such child-like minds ruled our nations, how many lives and families could be saved. Some food for thought!<br /></p>
