One More casualty in the war of the Kitchen

Last night when heading to the bathroom before bed I noticed something scurrying on the counter. Kate was a couple steps behind as our religion dictates and I stopped her from coming in the kitchen. She has told me time and time again that she does not want to see or know what happens to these mice. I stopped the little guy from his chosen escape route and forced him into a corner under some covering. While he hid there plotting his next move I gathered my arsenal of rodent ridders. Three sticky traps set up on one side of the counter so that anything that crossed that way would stick around for a while and a wooden spoon to direct the rascally rodent to the proper road. When I lifted the covering my witty nemesis ducked under it towards me and my wooden spoon and away from the traps. I lunged to the far left to keep him on the counter and he hid in the curtain above the sink. Well played my little enemy but you are just putting off the inevitable. I shook out the curtain into the sink and the mouse dropped to the bottom. I think he knew the jig was up because he started squeaking that high pitched squeal that sounds vaguely like "Please don't kill me James! Please, I promise I won't come back James, I promise." You are a liar and a felon and you will meet your maker this night my friend I told him and I grabbed a sticky trap. There were a number of dishes in the sink so I slowly pulled them out and then paced the trap in the middle of the sink. The mouse made a run for the right and was met with a wooden spoon to his tiny noggin that sent him back across the middle of the sink, across the middle of the trap. The battle was mine! A worthy advesery I must say but this was my night for victory.