Not sure what caliber for mouse....but I do know what caliber for field rat.
Read on.
My wife and I had been married for about a year and a half when we moved form our apartment into our first house. It was located in a nice suburban neighborhood in a small city. We had been there about 3 months when one morning I was woken up by the sound of my wife (who was in the shower) screaming and a loud thump. Knowing my wife's lack of coordination, balance, and graceful movement in general, I got up and rushed into the bathroom fully expecting her to have fallen in the shower. Did I mention it was about 415am? Needless to say, I was not in full possession of my senses at that ungodly hour.
As I walk thru the bathroom door, I see my wife peeking around the shower curtain and hear her SCREAM at me to hurry up and close the door before "IT" got out. I asked her what "IT" was after I shut the door to stop her shrieking. Turns out IT was a "rat" that according to her had decided to join her in the shower. The thump that I heard was a shampoo bottle she had thrown in it's general direction. Now, at this time, I kept multiple snakes and raised my own mice to feed them. I assumed that the "rat" she had seen was just a mouse that had gotten loose. I figured she was just engaging in female hysterics and would calm down.
It being very early in the morning and me being a male in the bathroom resulted in a certain bodily function needing to be addressed. I was standing there handling my business thinking about how hysterical my wife (and women in general) could be when faced with a small furry rodent when out of nowhere a RAT about the size of a Jack Russell terrier ran across my foot..........
I am 6'8" and at the time I was 275lbs and in good shape. When I felt that rat run across my foot, any concern I had about maintaining the four rules as it related to the "equipment" I had out were forgotten. In the process of screaming like a girl and jumping directly on the toilet, I managed to hose down the entire bathroom. Imagine an NFL tight end perched on a toilet wearing nothing but a pair of boxers, his junk hanging out, and screaming at a rat while hurling soap, shampoo bottles, toothbrushes and anything else I could get.
Eventually either my hysterical screaming or state of semi-nudity had the desired effect and the rat hid between the vanity and the wall. I had it trapped so I recovered my dignity, climbed down off the toilet and amid the hysterical laughter of my wife, went into the bedroom, grabbed a small .22 rifle and loaded it with the intention of ending this rat's escapades. I lean over the crude barricade I have erected and just as I am about to pull the trigger, my wife yells at me to stop. When I tell her my plan (blast him) she comes unhinged again and questions my sanity asking me what I planned to do about the whole this would leave in the floor. My response of "it's only a .22" didn't seem to satisfy her for some reason. As we are arguing over the merits of shooting this rat in our home......he gets away. At this point I am told that if I ever want to enjoy the.....ahem.....benefits of being married to her again, I will dispatch this rat post haste and with minimal collateral damage to our home.
Fast forward a few days.....
All of the above resulted in me swearing out a blood oath against this rat, so after unsuccessful attempts to dispatch this rat by conventional means (wooden spring traps, glue traps) I have taken the nuclear option and purchased a .22 caliber pellet rifle.
One one particular night, we were in the LR of our house and the rat had gotten so bold that as soon as we turned the lights off in the kitchen, you could hear the pitter patter of little feet on the tile. I would flip the light on , but was unable to get a shot off in time before the rat disappeared in a gap between the cabinets and the wall. Finally I devised a contraption made up of spring traps and glue traps that would hopefully snare the rat long enough for me to dispatch it. I turn off the lights and wait.
A few seconds later, I hear the scurrying of little feet followed by the two spring traps going off, a squeak and the scrabbling of feet on the floor. I flip the light on and wonder of wonders....the rat is stuck on it's side to a glue trap and is laboring mightily to right itself so it can run and hide.
I bring the sights of the rifle up in one fluid motion, settle the front sight on the shoulder of the rat and pull the trigger. The first shot anchors the beast, but it is still struggling to get up. I fire again, and again, and again getting closer with every shot. The last shot is placed just behind the head and finally dispatches my prey.
After I verified it was dead, I took a good look at my quarry. About 10" long without the tail. Hips were about the size of a soft drink can. She probably weighed about 3 pounds.
It took 5 shots from a .22 pellet gun, 10 pumps each shot to finally kill the rat all because my wife didn't want a .22 size hole in the bathroom floor.
W
