Here's a little deer mouse. I'm sorry to tell you that this is a partially sad story. But I have rules.
The rules are: I really LOVE these little cuties when they agree to live outside. However, they are not allowed to live in my pantry, and/or run over my bare feet when I'm watching TV.
I think a litter of deer mice was born in our basement, matured about three weeks ago and staked out their own spaces. Over the past 21 days I've interacted with the family.
Mouse #1- Very tiny! Sat at my feet and stared up at me. I grabbed it with a kleenex and released it outside. Welcome to the cold world, little one.
Mouse #2- Wandered upstairs and Maggie dispatched it the next morning. She was always a good mouser. Especially for a d-o-g.
Mouse #3- Growing. Sat on the back of the couch right beside me and stared at me. I grabbed it with a kleenex and released it outside. I think #1 and #3 mice in that litter must have been developmentally disabled. Whoever heard of catching a healthy mouse in the hand?
Mouse #4- Legally insane, then legally dead. It committed suicide (probably accidentally) by jumping in the toilet. Hmmm.
Mouse #5- Got all the brains in the family, and the speed. It's been racing around the basement (where we have our TV, bedroom, etc) like a banshee. It knocks things over, gallops like a small horse. Wait... make that past tense. Joan (that would be me) bought some poison blocks, which #5 (and #6) have devoured with great enthusiasm. Tonight, #5 (pictured) was walking slowly across the floor. I grabbed it with... well, you know the drill... and sent it outside. Yes, it's dying. It makes me sad to do that, but I'm not interested in sharing my food.
Mouse #6- Still loose upstairs. Last seen on the kitchen floor mat. It would be great if I could catch it or it would die in plain sight. Otherwise, we'll soon have a "lovely" odor in the walls for a few days.
I hate killing things, even mice. But my rule on sharing food spaces is inflexible. Sorry.
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