Daisy

With just two weeks left in our condo, on Saturday night I got to experience something I hoped to never experience; I watched a mouse scamper across our kitchen floor.

I obviously proceeded to yell "MOUSE! MOUSE! MOUSE! MOUSE!" to all of our house guests and Mr. G, who promptly ran in to the kitchen with a pot and spatula to catch the little critter.  

I was a little freaked out (who wants a dirty outdoor varmint in their OCD clean kitchen?!) but after about 20 hours I had gotten used to the idea of this cute little (and lord was she the littlest mouse I have ever seen) mouse living with us for our last two weeks in the condo.  As long as she didn't scamper out across my feet or move up into our bedroom with us, I was ok with this.

Except yesterday morning, I woke up and came downstairs to find a huge mess that Daisy (obviously our new house mate needed a name) left on my counter--she started nesting.  Oh lord, I thought.  Then I screeched up to Mr. G "GET DOWN HERE, DAISY MADE A FUCKING MESS!  HELP!"  I am very sane and practical in the early morning hours, don't you agree?  I told Mr. G to get a mousetrap and we would have to get rid of our new guest because we couldn't have her making a mess or having baby Daisys, etc.  But I asked if he could get a humane mouse trap because murder is just so cold hearted.  He said no.  I nearly cried.

We cleaned up the remnants of Daisy's nest and went off to work, making sure that the counters were spotless and no food was left out.  No sign of Daisy when we got home from work or while we were making dinner.  "Maybe we don't need to kill Daisy?  She seems to be staying hidden and she isn't bothering us, so maybe we don't have to kill her?!" I pleaded with Mr. G.  He said he forgot the mouse trap anyway, so she got to live for one more day.  I again asked for a humane mouse trap, he again said no, I again said, "let's let her be, she is fine, she is not hurting anyone."

Except that this morning, I came down to make my tea, which I always put out in my mug the night before, so I have to do as little in the morning as possible (I am lazy like that), and that little cute varmint bitch had gotten IN MY MUG and took my tea bag.  I found it half way across the kitchen with holes all over it, a trail of tea leaves and mouse poop.  What the living hell?  Today I calmly cleaned up Daisy's mess, washed my mug furiously with soap and water (I don't want no rodent diseases) and did not yell up to Mr. G (he specifically told me if Daisy made an appearance to take care of it myself like the adult that I am.  Humph.)

I went upstairs and told Mr. G to go ahead and get the mouse trap.

I already had a little cry about it on my way to work, though.

Love,

Granny