Mouse versus 747

While burning the midnight oil in front of my laptop a week ago, I heard some rumblings in the corner. By 1 a.m., I knew more about humane mousetraps than I ever thought possible. Turns out there is quite a selection. This one claims to be fun for the kids.

Fortunately, my sixth-month-old was fast asleep when we caught this critter and released it a few minutes later in the park across the street.

Since we are sharing incriminating pictures, here's another one.

Don't get me wrong. I like fruit baskets on my trans-Atlantic flights as much as the next guy with too many frequent flyer miles. (This first-class flight, by the way, was entirely free. Thank you, BA, and damn you for ruining every other economy-class flight experience from now on.)

I don't need to point out the irony that humane mousetraps make zero difference to the larger outcome. Of course, it made all the difference for that one animal—and to me for not having to deal with a poisoned or maimed mouse. But there are probably more mice and other critters dying because of my flight than I could have possibly ever trapped in my kitchen.