The Tree of Domesticity Must be Watered with the Blood of Rodents

I had a bad experience today. I stepped on a baby mouse. Deliberately.

I have a guy coming out today to look at our chimney cap. A squirrel got into my chimney a few years back, and I had to shoot it in the fireplace. I learned that animals had torn up the old chimney cap. Mice were coming in. I had the cap replaced.

Somehow, they still get in. It may be because I hired Certified Roofing to redo my roofs. Certified is a really awful company. They left dozens of nails in my yard. Shingles are still falling off the roof. I’m going to have to get them to fix everything. If they won’t, I’ll have to hire another company and sue Certified.

It may also be that the new chimney cap, installed by a different company, is not getting the job done. Maybe it’s loose.

Whatever is happening, we get an occasional mouse, so I leave poison out along with traps.

I use the white Tomcat traps. They’re really good if you bait them correctly. If you put peanut butter in them, the mice lick it off and walk away satisfied. I use peanut butter to glue big balls of Victor rat poison to the traps. The mice try to pry the balls out, and that’s the end of them.

The other day, I found a dead mouse in my master bedroom, and it looked like its nipples were distended. A mom mouse. I flushed it down the toilet and went on my way.

Today when I got up, I saw a little object wiggling on the floor by the guest bath. It turned out to be a tiny mouse. It was not very coordinated. It couldn’t get up and run effectively. It could scurry on its belly. Its eyes weren’t open.

It was dying of thirst, so it had left its hiding place to look for its mother.

It was depressing. A person’s natural instinct is to take care of small, weak things that need help. And baby mice are cute. But there was nothing to be done for it. You don’t buy a home for a disease-bearing pest and feed it milk with an eye dropper.

I scooped it up in a box in order to avoid getting microbes on me, I took it outside, and I put it on the porch. It found its way to a porch pillar and started slithering around it. Mice are drawn to corners. They like to scamper along the bases of walls. It was natural for it to go around the pillar. It wanted to get away and survive.

I shoved it out where I could get at it, and I stamped on it. Instant death. I scraped the goo off my sandal and pushed the mouse’s remains out where scavengers could see them.

That was it. I was finished. I went in and made breakfast, which I didn’t enjoy a whole lot.

When my wife made it to the table, I told her what had happened. She said, “It had to go. It was a pest.” No husband-shaming. No tears. I was more affected than she was.

This shows what a blessing it is to have a foreign wife. In some other countries, people are still so concerned about taking care of themselves and their families, they don’t really care how mice and rats feel. They still have common sense.

I have a friend who has three sons. They were at my house one day, and we went to my shop. While we were talking, I saw a big roach, and without interrupting our conversation, I turned on the shop vacuum, sucked the roach up, and turned the vacuum off. The eldest son’s jaw dropped. He looked at his mother. He asked if I was just going to leave the roach in the vacuum. I thought it was a strange question. Of course I was.

It took me a second to realize there was a culture clash.

Back when I was having mole problems, I started telling his mother about a trap I had bought, and she cut me off. She understood that the moles had to go, but did not want to hear about it. It upset her.

It didn’t upset me. I wasn’t happy about crushing innocent creatures in a steel trap, but I wasn’t going to lie awake thinking about it.

I guess they live in one of those homes where people scoop up spiders, take them outside, and rehome them.

My wife is from Africa. They don’t rehome bugs. They don’t even like having dogs in the house.

My friend is a wonderful woman, but every home needs a male authority figure to keep things in balance.

“Harmless” spiders bite people while they sleep, and the bites fill up with pus. I had two spider bites. I would say each one produced over a teaspoon of pus. I had to go to a doctor for each one. One left a scar. Now tell me how spiders are our friends.

I have something awful to say. The more decadent and spoiled a society is–the more worthless it has become–the better it treats animals. Being too nice to animals is a luxury for spoiled people have never had to worry about pests eating their food or giving their children diseases. People who have never had to kill an animal to feed or protect a family.

Everyone should be kind to animals when it’s practical, but we go too far. There are people now who complain about cruelty to shrimp, which are just bugs that live under water. Fish barely know they’re alive, and they aren’t capable of real suffering, but every fishing story on the Internet is followed by moronic, enraged comments from twisted people who think every tuna has dreams and a mom.

In its slide into decadence, America has become feminized and matriarchal, and that’s a problem. Matriarchies don’t work. They breed crime and poverty. They produce generations of worthless boys who end up in prison.

Every family needs a father who is willing to be the bad guy. Somebody has to say, “No, we can’t keep the sick dog we found at the dump.” “No, Fluffy the cancerous cat can’t come home from the vet this time.” “No, we can’t save the rat we found in the trap and buy it a nice cage with a wheel in it.”

That guy is me. I have to accept the burden of doing unpopular things now. I’m glad my wife is supportive.

When I was a kid, I found a mouse that was dying, and I put it in a jar and tried to help it. My grandparents and my mother should have ordered me to dump it in the yard, but they didn’t. That was a mistake. I thought its convulsions might be labor. I thought I might be helping it have “babies.” Mice don’t have babies. Babies are human beings. Mice have young.

It died the day I found it. I should have put it on the ground and stepped on it to end its suffering. Because my family failed to step up, I let it suffer for no reason. Their laziness was cruel.

I have also saved a litter of skunks, a white lab mouse, a tiny raccoon, and a baby mockingbird. I think the mouse did all right. A girl took it home with her. I turned the skunks over to my dad’s friend, a big, brash North Carolina sheriff’s deputy, and I was told they would be cared for by a buddy of his who raised skunks. I’m sure he dispatched them the same day. The coon went to a crazy lady with a wildlife rescue operation. I remember her holding the coon in one hand and a cocktail in the other. The mockingbird was torn apart by the same cat that made its rescue necessary in the first place. I found its headless body.

You don’t rescue coons. They are horrible pests, and they carry rabies without symptoms. I can kill raccoons here legally all year. There is no season. Every considerate, informed, compassionate person hates them.

My last encounter with a coon involved me shooting it in the head while it was stuck in a trap. It kept stealing the bait from the trap I was using to get a squirrel that chewed on my very expensive gate. I put a .22 round through its brain and tossed it over the fence for the buzzards, crows, and possums. I didn’t enjoy it, but someone had to do it.

My friend with the three boys has a mother who keeps abandoned animals on a farm. She’s an animal hoarder. The animals don’t get the greatest care. Most would be better off at the end of a veterinarian’s needle. She buys vegetables and provides salad for wild coons every day. This is like injecting yourself with something that makes covid viruses stronger and more prolific. It’s worse than feeding rats. Coons kill pets and livestock, they invade people’s attics, and they are generally a source of misery.

Who is kind? The person who hangs onto animals that have unpleasant lives and prolongs them with substandard care, or the one who steps on orphaned mice to save them hours or days of agony?

A person has a divine right to live. An animal does not. Jesus ate meat. God allows us to turn animals into meals and shoes. We don’t have to ask for permission or forgiveness.

Euthanizing a person is murder. Euthanizing an animal is compassion coupled with strength of character. It takes character to kill an animal you wish you could help.

I showed mercy to a family of squirrels here. Then I paid $6000 to undo the damage they did to my truck. That’s my son’s inheritance and my wife’s food and clothing. Now I’m killing squirrels again.

Florida has changed the squirrel season. It used to last about 5 months. Now you can kill them whenever you want, although you might be hindered briefly if you live next door to a Karen who just moved here from New Jersey. Florida realizes squirrels are a problem. The part of the state north of Tampa was designed for two types of creatures: retirees and squirrels. Every third tree is an oak that rains acorns. Up north, most trees don’t make food for squirrels. Florida is a squirrel paradise.

God requires us to kill. It’s part of the curse he put on the world. Because of sin, he has to kill and punish, so he wants us to know how it feels. Under the Mosaic law, a person who refused to eat meat had to be cut off from Israel. Animals were killed and cooked every day at the temple. God ordered the Hebrews to kill a lot of people as well as their livestock, perhaps because the livestock were raped and used in pagan rituals. God got angry with Saul for showing the wrong people mercy instead of killing them.

The Messianic Age will be different. The world will be like a big petting zoo. Animals won’t eat meat. They’ll get along. Presumably, we’ll be able to touch them and love them. Until then, we have to share in the burden of ending lives.

I’m so glad I didn’t marry a pampered American girl who tries to keep meat off our table or who would stop talking to me if I shot a coyote. I’m so sick of female self-righteousness.

Women are not the answer. God, a male, is. Women never built or protected a society. Women never established police forces or prisons to keep people safe. Women can’t raise children alone without disastrous consequences, but men can. Women vote stupidly. If men didn’t vote, we would be communists right now. No exaggeration.

Men are extremely important. It does no good to bear children if they just rot. Prisons are full of the children of single mothers, not single men.

The other day, I saw George Clooney doing an interview. He looked spindly and frail. I turned to my wife and asked if Clooney’s wife was a vegan. I could tell.

I looked it up. Yes, of course she’s a vegan. He has a matriarchal household. God help his children. And him, for that matter. He must live in a psychological straitjacket. “IS THAT A SINGLE-USE PLASTIC BOTTLE?” “ARE YOU EATING A TACO AND APPROPRIATING CHEE-CA-NO CULTURE?” “OH, NO, YOU DID NOT MISGENDER THE CAT AGAIN!”

I genuinely pity him. And I thank God I’m not around people like that now.

Two days ago, my wife showed me a horrible photo from the web. A woman with a beard, holding a tiny baby that appeared to be malnourished. The website said the mother was a man.

We have been praying for that child. What chance does she have? Her parents are disgusting.

We saw a self-righteous vegan female influencer showing off a baby. It was much too small for its age. Veganism is not for babies or children. It’s much worse for them than it is for adults. It’s hard to make a vegan work for an adult, but making it work for a baby takes much more effort and knowledge.

The freak with the beard disturbed me and made me wish the world would end. I wish Yeshua would come for us today. We are completely finished as a nation and a world. When you can publish a photo of an unconscionable abomination and get a flood of likes, you live in a world that is not worth preserving for another day.

The squirrels will continue to die, as will the mice, coons, and whatever else gets on our nerves. If you have a wife who will let you be a man, you should step up and accept the honor. If you marry an American girl who voted for Kamala, you won’t get much sympathy from me when the misery kicks in.