Ding Dong, the ______ Is Dead

As I alluded to earlier, Carmen’s house is home to more than the six people and five dogs that live here officially. Also in residence is a brown mouse about the size of my fist which lives in the pantry off the kitchen. 

Despite Carmen’s belief that I grew up in an hermetically sealed ivory tower, I’ve been roommates with mice, bats, rattlesnakes, pigeons, and various insects and arachnids before. Also, having taught middle school for six years, I don’t have much of a startle reflex left. I wasn’t surprised to see the aforementioned mouse skittering between my feet in a mad dash for the couch, nor was I grossed out by it. Really, it was what happened afterward that scared the life out of me.

Laila is not allowed in the house, but she has a tendency to sit in the entryway with her head poked through the front door. One morning, I saw her in her usual place, busily chewing on something. As I hadn’t fed her yet, I made her open up and give me what was in her mouth. Inside were the remains of a green block about three inches long and one inch square. I didn’t know what it was, but there are a lot of foods here I don’t recognize: tomato-flavored jam, octopus legs, this porridge stuff called gofio. So I took it to Ruyman for identification. He didn’t know what it was either, so he asked his mom. The word she said was unfamiliar and I asked for a translation. Ruyman’s face was grey as he turned to me and said, “Rat poison.”

I’ve already mentioned in a previous post how much we dote on Laila and how hard we worked to get her here. The idea that my mother-in-law might have killed my dog was not a reality I wanted to consider. Relationships with in-laws are difficult enough without the added dynamic of man(dog)slaughter. Carmen reassured me that Laila would be fine, but I did what I always do in times of crisis: I went online to do some research. 

The trick was to make Laila vomit as soon as possible. The site I found recommended hydrogen peroxide, so we poured half a bottle down her throat. Nothing. I walked her around in the hopes it would get the peroxide moving. Still nothing. The website said that if she didn’t puke, we had to treat her with activated charcoal and vitamin K. (This, by the way, is the same treatment for humans who eat rat poison). But neither of the drugs were available without a prescription. We were out of options. We simply had to wait and see.

The next few days were tense. Rat poison kills by causing internal bleeding a few days after ingestion. By the time the victim shows symptoms, there are few ways to prevent death. At Day 3, Laila seemed her usual self and so did the mouse, who charged my feet in the middle of the kitchen. I did an impromptu tap dance while Carmen got a broom and smashed life out of the mouse. Then I took pictures.

Here’s the moral of the story: Rat poison in Spain doesn’t work. Thank heavens.

Here’s the other moral: There’s never just one mouse.