Today the concierge in one of our apartment buildings called the rental office in a fluster over a live mouse in the rear vestibule of her building. She wanted my permission to call emergency maintenance.
I said nah, I've got this, and headed over with a plunger.
A couple minutes later (and me semi-accidentally stepping on the mouse's hind legs -- I was just trying to block its path with my foot but it was a bit faster than I anticipated) I trapped it under the plunger, slid a couple pieces of junk mail under the plunger mouth to keep it trapped, and chucked the mouse into some of the landscaping between our building and the next one over.
...
I don't know what I did in a past life to end up as the mouse disposal person at three jobs running, but what the hell, there are worse fates.
(And yes, I knew the plunger would work because I've caught mice with one before. Long story, don't ask.)
I said nah, I've got this, and headed over with a plunger.
A couple minutes later (and me semi-accidentally stepping on the mouse's hind legs -- I was just trying to block its path with my foot but it was a bit faster than I anticipated) I trapped it under the plunger, slid a couple pieces of junk mail under the plunger mouth to keep it trapped, and chucked the mouse into some of the landscaping between our building and the next one over.
...
I don't know what I did in a past life to end up as the mouse disposal person at three jobs running, but what the hell, there are worse fates.
(And yes, I knew the plunger would work because I've caught mice with one before. Long story, don't ask.)