Meanwhile, while we've been here, each night, there's a scratching deep within the walls that clearly says, "Something lives inside here!" When I sit on the couch, I can hear it run over top of my head and it scares me to death.
|A lonely sugar wafer. Our little friend|
A few weeks ago, my roommate told me he'd found two mice nests with little babies inside. He put them outside, checked on them the next day. They were gone. I assumed that their mama found them and now they're living somewhere happy. He maintains they were probably eaten.
Then one night, I was sitting on the stairs chatting with my roommate while Baxter and Kyla played tug-of-war. From my right side I saw movement. Sure enough it was a tiny mouse going after my mint oreos. I screamed, he screamed, he ran, I screamed more.
My roommate and I more fully began discussing getting a live trap so we could catch the little guy and send him packing without killing him. A few mornings later, however, I woke up. Fed the dogs, and just before I went to leave, I remembered I hadn't checked their water.
I stood on my toes, and there, in the water bowl was a floating mouse.
Needless to say, I couldn't stop screaming and my roommate had to take care of our little dead friend.
I'm sad because I hate finding live mice in the house. I know they'll die in here and I'll have to deal with their small adorable bodies. Realistically, I just don't like things dying because it makes me sad.
So here's to my dead little mouse friend: may you rest in piece with as much sugar and oreos as you can stand.