The five mousetraps Christine places around the house in the midst of a mice infestation symbolize her futile attempts to control her environment and exert her will on nature. While waiting to eat dinner, she puts out two more traps, in addition to the three that were already set up, after she sees “the familiar tiny dark shape of a mouse run the length of the skirting” in the kitchen—clearly, Christine’s efforts haven’t been enough to eradicate the infestation. Although she and Al believe in living a natural way of life, she is not willing to accept the natural intrusion of mice into their home. As she prepares the traps, she glances at store-bought herbal medicines in the pantry, “her mouth twisting into a humourless, cynical curl” when she recognizes how she has given in to the convenience of buying medicine at the store, even though she still opts for herbal and homeopathic remedies. Similarly, Christine relies on mousetraps but still chooses spring-loaded ones over glue traps or poison, which are more convenient but less humane and environmentally friendly.
Since having children, Christine and Al have made many such compromises between their idealistic worldview and the practical concerns of daily life. They address many needs with old-fashioned methods, such as a wood-fired oven and a bathtub that needs to be emptied manually, but embrace technology for others, like owning a television and computer for entertainment. However, neither compromise nor sticking to principles brings satisfaction for Christine—she is irritated by television’s influence on her children yet dreams of owning an electric oven. Just before heading to her biopsy appointment, she unsets all five mousetraps, none of which have caught mice. In doing so, she symbolically gives up trying to control her life and surroundings, instead allowing nature to run its course. By the end of the story, Christine accepts that neither technology nor a natural lifestyle can grant her power over nature, whether it takes the form of mice in her home or the mysterious—and possibly malignant—lump in her body.
Mousetraps Quotes in Tender
She gets up and finds two traps in the pantry, in behind the jars and plastic containers and the box full of herbal cough and cold remedies, valerian tea and rescue remedy. Back when the kids were born, she and Al would never have dreamed of treating them with any commercial preparations from the chemist.
[…]
Rescue remedy, she thinks as she replaces the little bottle on the shelf. And can't stop her mouth twisting into a humourless, cynical curl as she dabs some peanut butter onto the mousetraps and sets them, pushing them cautiously back into shadowy corners with the tip of her finger.
Then, cold but wide awake and ready, she locates each of the five mousetraps she's set and kneels down in front of each of them in turn. Carefully, with the flat of her hand, she releases the springs so that the small metal trays of bait slip from the jagged hook holding them in place. She's humming to herself as she grasps each straining metal bar and guides it back to let it settle, with a benign and harmless snap, against the small rectangle of wood.