Previously on The Infestation
A fortnight ago, I was in the kitchen giving the maid some instructions. The infestation is getting out of hand, and I was on the verge of giving up and just let the pest control service do the costly pest extermination.
"Ate, pag alis ko mamaya, pakilagyan ng padikit yung kuwarto ko." The padikit was the flypaper - that cheap pesticide coated with sticky substance, which we use to catch mice and sometimes even cockroaches.
"Tingnan ko kung meron pa tayo ha?" She sounded unsure if the task can be accomplished. I was certain she will.
The discovery of a mouse poop on my bed had changed my outlook of the problem. Not only are the gnawers assaulting my inner and private space, they've begun to press the fight where it causes the most indignation.
Retaliation is my quick answer, including the complete lockdown of my quarters, which my mom strongly disapproves. In the meantime, I saw to it that whatever creature was responsible for that fecal matter must be caught in a sticky fly trap. At this point, I already knew that no mice can resist the strong appetizing smell of peanut butter. So I told the maid to dab the bait with generous spread of that aromatic cream for efficacy.
We laid the trap and let it stay overnight.
The next morning, a medium-sized mouse - a mother - I presume tried to paddle her foot to show resistance: to tell her captors that she is alive and could still barrel herself to freedom. Unfortunately, half of her entire body already got stuck on the flypaper making all attempts at escaping rather futile. The only way she could be liberated is through means that will hasten her death.
After gleefully showing the maid the mouse our flypaper had caught, I creased the sticky parchment into smaller folds. Dumping it (with the mouse still breathing), not in a garbage bin but in a container half-filled with water made our offensive a cruel act, but a rewarding pursuit.
The result was an overwhelming desire to drive these critters out of the house - by all means necessary.