There's a mouse in my house.

Imagine my surprise when I saw the little critter scramble across my living room floor and duck behind the entertainment center. I jumped up and ran to the garage to fetch the official mouse catcher - Lane. He laughed at me when I yelled, "there's a mouse in the house! Come in here and get it!" Maybe it was the rhyme.

After some gentle persuasion (translation - begging and pleading) he came in to try and capture him. BUT! It was gone, already moved on to who knows where in MY HOUSE! And now I'm cautious every time I open a cabinet - thinking I'm going to see him staring back at me with those inky eyes. My overactive imagination has gone into overdrive filling my head with images of mice parties where they tease my pug dog and raid the pantry. So far I haven't seen it again, the only other sighting was the same night - when Lane saw it running behind our Christmas tree. But I know he's around here somewhere...

In Deb's perfect world there'd be a nice humane way to trap the mouse (and his friends and family if they're hangin at casa Farka too) and relocate them to the fields that are a few miles from here. But, that's not exactly practical and before the little furry thing decides to send out 'the party at my crib message' we've got to get rid of it.

So now we have traps here and there (thankfully they're the kind that I won't have to see the mouse) and some poison in the garage and basement. Trust me when I tell you that this really bothers me - since I tend to like animals better than I like people and yes that includes the creepy critters known as mice.