There is a mouse somewhere in my apartment. He's actually kind of cute - very little and black with back legs that make him hop around the room. How did he get in my house, you may ask? Why the thanks goes to Tippy.
Tippy loves to catch mice, but it's not fun unless he brings them back into the apartment perfectly unharmed, gently cradled between his big sharp teeth. I can usually trap them before they get too far but I wasn't quick enough last night. I spent a couple hours shining a flashlight into every corner and cranny in a futile attempt to find the escaped rodent. Tippy, assuming that I had already done my job of disposing of the animal, lounged calmly in the middle of the living room.
There was no sign of the mouse this morning either. I'm hoping he wasn't riddled with internal injuries and crawled off somewhere dark and quiet to die. Then, I will only discover his presence from the disgusting smell emanating from an inaccessible corner of my apartment. Maybe while I'm at work tonight Tippy will find a sign of the mouse, thus renewing his interest in the hunt. He's a really good mouser when he puts his mind to it so, with any luck, the source of my mouse problem will also be the solution.
1 comment:
Oh, Tippy! This is very poor form! Mouses and birds do not make very good presents unless they are stunned. Then they are very good presents!
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