Frank

I came to work this morning and Don was looking at me snickering. Then he pointed at something on the floor and said: "Recognize this?". Yeah, I recognized it alright - there on the floor was an unopened box of brandy beans (that's brandy-filled chocolates shaped like beans for you Europeans), one corner chewed off and confetti of cardboard all around it.

"Mice" I said.

Yep, somehow we have mice in the office - Gino had forgotten a box of brandy beans under his desk on Friday, and the mice had found them, dragged them to the other side of his desk, chewed open a corner and then decided that they didn't want liquor filled chocolates after all. We named the mouse "Frank" and called maintenance, who came and put in a temporary mouse trap promising to come and set up the proper equipment tomorrow.

The problem from my point of view is that what this temporary mouse trap is, is just a heavy piece of extremely sticky paper. Apparently this is fairly standard trap around there parts - but it doesn't necessarily kill the mouse like an old fashioned snapping trap would. So the mouse might suffocate on it if he sticks his nose into it, but he might not - so when I come to work tomorrow morning there might be a half-dead Frank squealing trapped on that sheet... meaning I will have to kill it, especially if the guys are gonna bail out and stay at home as heavy snowfall has been promised for tonight.

Great. I have nothing against killing animals in principle - Frank wouldn't think twice about doing it to me if he could. And I'm pretty sure I could do it - my mom has taught me the kind of determination that when something needs to be done, you just have to go ahead and do it... and I'd rather kill Frank than let him suffer any further. I'd just rather not.

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