I've been hesitant to tell this story because of the inherent (unintended!) cruelty involved, but maybe you can appreciate it...
Many, many years ago at my mother's house one afternoon, I was preparing some food to go into the oven. About halfway through the prep work, I turned the oven on to preheat. After a minute or two, I started hearing a soft scratching/scraping sound. I kept working on the food prep as the sounds kept getting faster and more intense, then they slowed and stopped. And then I started to smell burnt hair. Finally, it hit me what was going on and I opened the oven door in a panic to a waft of very unpleasant smoke billowing out and the charred remains of a dead mouse under the heating element.
I was traumatized by what I'd done, and the house smelled so bad, that I didn't have any appetite for dinner that night. I don't know what my family did, but it didn't involve the oven.
Thing is, we didn't know my mother's house had a mouse problem. In fact, that was the only one we ever encountered. My brother and his then-girlfriend (now wife) had cats, so I think this one mouse was just on a desperate mission that ended in disaster.