There is a mouse in our house.

Possibly there are mice in our hice.

But we’ve seen no proof of them being plural.

And our hunting dog is no help. Miri, who rushes outside to chase squirrels, who lunges against her leash at little bunny rabbits on walks, heard a sound, went over to sniff at it, and wandered away.

So at the end of all this, when we are at the stage of the apocalypse where we don’t have to go to work anymore, and we’re huddled around fires in the woods, our backup plan worries me.

Honestly though, I’d keep it in a cage for the rest of the winter*, til it won’t freeze to death. I’ve only seen it streak by in a blur, but it’s a cute blur. I would have no problem with cohabiting with it if it were only house trained and didn’t eat my snacks.

 

*Adam said no.