When I got up this morning, Tango was sitting quietly in the bathroom, which meant he was stalking a mouse. Once I started making noise, though, he went back to bed. Then, while I was drinking coffee and checking e-mail, the mouse ran out from behind the stove. I resisted the urge to shriek and jump on a chair, and instead called my bodyguard. "Tango. Tango, come protect me." He ignored me, but chose to stay inside today, so I'm pretty sure I'll find mouse parts when I get home tonight.
The mice seem louder and bolder this year. Normally, I rarely see them, only hear them in the attic -- a compromise I am willing to make. However, once they start invading my space, it's time to take action. The question is, what? I hate emptying mousetraps. Poison's out, because of Tango. Those sticky mousetraps seem so cruel. What to do, what to do?
2 Comments:
Get Tango a kitten. He will then have to teach the kitten how to hunt, which will require many trophies.
Heh, that's a good idea, Sharon. Except that Tango is the extremely jealous type.
I did come home that afternoon to a bloody smear of mouse guts (and some barf, but that's another story).
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