We Got 'Im

Hopefully there will be no more of this:
Each of the numerous times that I awoke last night, I nervously checked the clock to see whether our intruder might reasonably have been caught yet. I didn't want to disturb him in the act and let him be frightened away. I wanted to nab him. At the same time, I constantly shivered at the thought of being successful in our little mission. I had at least two separate dreams about the rodent being caught. In the first, David had gone down ahead of me and put the trapped rat in a shoebox covered with two brown lunchbags, and then left it precariously balanced on the edge of the sink for me to admire! In the second, there were two animals, one live mouse and one dead rat. I won't go into any of the gruesome details of that story.

At 5:45am I finally deemed it late enough for noctural animals to be done with their prowling, and ventured timidly into the kitchen.

GOT HIM!
Simply put, these work exactly as billed.

This was our first experience with a rodent in the house. I have nothing against mice or rats outside, or in a cage on purpose, but when one of unknown lineage dares to party uninvited in my pantry, that's crossing the line. If it happens again, we now know what to do. Or perhaps I should say David knows what to do. Although it was I who selected, bought, and observed the trap, he is the one who mixed the final feast, applied the sticky treat to the trap, set it, and threw the prize out in the morning. He doesn't see why I am sparing you the photo he took before disposal...