I had no real intention of including another cat post today, but that's the way it goes. You know how something can happen that will change the way that you look at a place forever? I had that Sunday morning as I was on my way to Sunday school.
I have a mouse in my garage. At least a, as in singular, uno, mouse. And judging by the size of that very large...mouse, it may be wishful thinking that it is indeed a mouse, but that's what I'm going with anyway.
I thought about skipping church to tear apart the corner that mouse ran into. And decided against it. I did do some picking and trashing in that corner after I got home until I filled up my garbage can, but the mouse remains undiscovered.
On the bright side, as least now I'll have to clean out my garage. Unfortunately, that means I have to clean out my garage. And there's a mouse loose.
I'm thinking about getting a garage cat, you know, like a barn cat that lives in the garage? Instead I'm sure I'd have a cat in the house AND a garage with a mouse.
So for now, I just sit in my house listening for mouse laughter. And I run from the door to the car. A mouse ran across my bare foot when I was at an impressionable age. I have no desire to jump that high or squawk that loudly at this age. I might sprain something.
1 comment:
I'm not a big fan of mice either.
Once upon a time, the first year that DH and I were married, I made gingerbread men to hang on our Christmas tree. Every night, I would hear mouse feet scratching their way up the wrapped gifts to get to those cookies on the tree. That stupid mouse ate the legs off my ornaments!!! But guess what.... mouse traps work! I heard the thing snap, and then I made DH get rid of the dead mouse. And we are living happily ever after, without mice, most of the time. The End.
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