Poor Mouse

This photo is actually over a month old, but even into the midst of December, this pot was almost as green as ever on our kitchen patio.  It's one of the sap buckets Grandpa Smith bought at an auction some time ago.  Mom and Aunt Andrea planted them all with mint and annuals to decorate our wedding reception and we brought one with us, yay.

The real reason for the random picture posting is that today we finally caught a mouse!  Finally. 

I post pictures because I like looking at pictures and figured that other people probably do, too.  But I already promised that there would be no mouse pictures.  In fact, I hardly looked at it myself.  (This is yet another benefit of having a husband who works from home.) 

To back up, when we returned from our January travels, I kept finding mouse droppings all over.  Oh, they were on a cookie sheet under the stove, on the binding of a cookbook on the counter and, yes, still in the towel drawer where I stashed the dryer sheet.  It seems I spoke too soon about the effectiveness of dryer sheets in scaring mice away.  Just a few minutes ago, I was dusting around the computer and found mouse droppings back there.  I do realize that some of you are probably resolving NEVER to visit us on cottage lane as you read this!  But please reconsider; we're trying to fix the problem!

I can just imagine those little mice having a fiesta while we were gone.  There were certainly plenty of nibbled gingerbread ornaments on our, ahem, still standing tree to keep them busy.

It was when I found some droppings in the linen closet that I finally alerted John.  It was just too much and he agreed.  We've had the traps out randomly in the kitchen and I didn't honestly expect to catch anything last night, but he set one in the linen closet anyway.  Success.

Of course, the moment I saw the poor mouse I felt pity for it.  Hey, I wouldn't have minded if they'd enjoyed our gingerbread cottage for a Christmas feast, but they can't be soiling our house.  I know that I could have cleaned the trap myself, and therefore didn't need to prove it to anyone, okay?  My sweet husband dumped the little thing and expressed some pity on it himself.  Yet, in the spirit of manly and womanly dominion (the subject of a conference we both recently attended), we're confident that we're not trespassers on this earth or in our home.  The mouse and all his friends must go.  If you're a friend of that dead mouse, you may fear for your life.