The mouse is now living in my bedroom. *scream!* I woke up in the middle of the night on Tuesday to hear scratching, turned on my light, and it was running across the floor. It must have got in my door during the day. I did not scream. Of that I am proud. Instead I took my pillow next door into the spare bedroom. Okay, so I'm a wimp... but of my sleep and my dignity, I prefer sleep.
The mouse trap sucks. It has gone off twice and failed to kill the mouse. This morning Dad looked in my door and couldn't see the trap and we decided the mouse must have got caught in it and dragged it off somewhere. Thank goodness the mouse wasn't caught; the trap had snapped shut and jumped out of sight. I would rather know the mouse is alive and well than alive and terrified and bleeding all over my room, poor little thing.
This is a story I will not be sharing with my niece Lydia. She is the most animal-obsessed girl I have ever met. She used to hit me if I killed mosquitoes - "How would you feel if you were one?" A few weeks ago she said to my sister, "Mum, when I grow up I'm going to translate the Bible into chimp." She would treat this as premeditated murder.