The smell wasn't unbearable at first. More like a mild annoyance. But despite cleaning all my dishes, washing my clothes, looking under my bed, even peeking under the mattress -- I couldn't figure out where it was coming from. And it was getting worse.
Deep down I think I knew. We'd heard the scurrying for a few days, and then one night I saw them: two small, gray furballs running along the walls just below the tin roof.
Most people don't like mice. I'm pretty indifferent, as long as they don't eat my food or fall on me while I'm sleeping. But my host mom ... it's kind of her thing. Like how some people can deal with spiders and ants but can't stand cockroaches. Norma can put up with a lot of things, but not mice.
The next day, she went into Tumbes and bought rat poison, placing a dish on the floor of my room near the scene of the First Appearance.
So, I guess that's kind of how I suspected the now rancid smell in my room was probably a decomposing rodent. Since I couldn't find it, I figured it was lodged in one of the many cracks or crevices of my walls. And I braced myself for an uncomfortable few days.
Norma took one step into my room and walked right back out, holding her nose. She returned with a small flash light and started the search. When she spotted him, Norma shrieked and ran to get the broom and dust pan.
I suppose since I was an accomplice to the rat poison, it would make sense that the mouse would choose his final revenge by dying in one of my shoes. I'd just hoped that he'd die before he got to carry out his evil plan.
I doused the spot with bleach water and threw out my shoes while Norma carried his tiny gray body away to toss behind the municipality. When she came back, we looked at each other -- pale, wide-eyed -- and we both just started laughing.
Nothing like a little pest control to provide some family bonding.
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