Mouse In My House

There is a mouse in my house. I thought I saw one run across my kitchen floor out of the corner of my eye a few days ago, but I dismissed it. I've never had a mouse in my house before so I didn't think it could happen to me.

But he's definitely here.

I'm not afraid of mice. I actually think they're really cute. But the discovery of this mouse did make me scream like a little girl.

As I was lifting the garbage bag out of the garbage can, the mouse sprung out from a hole he had chewed in the bag. He landed on my boot (as I was in uniform). I screamed. Picasso came running. The mouse took off. In a black blur of mouse, he scampered under my washer and has not been seen since. And Picasso did nothing. Apparently mouse hunting is not a skill set he possesses.

I found evidence under the kitchen sink that the mouse has been sharing our house for a while. He left poo all over under there. Yuck! I wish I could have no regard for where I poo.

I wonder how the mouse got into my garbage can in the first place. The can is a metal cylinder. With a lid. I wonder if I accidentally threw away the mouse in the past couple days? Did I pick him up? Has there been a mouse hanging out in my garbage and Picasso didn't even notice him moving around in there?

As cute as he may be (if I ever got to see more of him than just a blur), he can't stay. I told James to get traps. I suggested humane traps. He said, "The kind that snap?" So...  I guess we're going to end up killing the little guy. I figured since he had the ability to Houdini into the garbage can, we could spare his life. Poor little mouse in my house.