What's Up Pussycat?

I can't figure out where they're coming from, or how they're getting in. Obviously there's plenty of opportunity. That's right, dear readers, I have experienced the joys of another mouse.

I knew the cats had something good when they woke me up at 3 am, hissing and chasing and finally scratching desperately at some unpacked boxes at the bottom of my bedroom stairs. When they were still perched on the risers, staring intently at said boxes at 6 am, I figured it was a mouse. I think I rather shrugged and proceeded to fall asleep with the baby until I almost made the teenager late for school. When I came back from chauffeur duty, the cats had trapped the poor thing under the vacuum cleaner and I couldn't kill it myself because I'd have the clean up the mess and that would just be too icky for me. Plus, he was just so small and helpless. And he had actually managed to survive two cats for well over three and a half hours. That should be rewarded, don'cha think?

Now it's become old hat to trap it in the really long bread loaf shaped tupperware. I didn't even scream as I took it outside and released it. This time, though, a little closer to the church as they don't wish us to have our guests park their cars in their humongous parking lot (hey, none of the leaves I've been raking outta my yard actually belong to any of MY trees, people!). So, I hope he's accepted by the other little church mice I've started many a career of.

I am Disney.