I hate mice. Mice are nasty, vile, gross, and fast.
We have lived in this house for almost 10 years and I can honestly say that I've seen only a couple of mice since we moved in. This is my justification for having so many cats. (They are all outside/barn cats, its not like I'm the crazy cat lady or anything) BUT a day or two ago I am lying on my bed and out of the corner of my eye I see something move. AAAAAHHHHHHH!! NOOOOOO! I guess it should be expected since this winter has been so cold. However, that rationalization did not stop me from NOT feeding my cats the next day. OBVIOUSLY they need to be doing some hunting.
The next day Chris comes home with a rat arsenal. (All mice are rats to me, even if they aren't) Sticky strips go down, poison goes out. Now you have to understand that until this rat is caught, I cannot peacefully stand close to any cabinet, open any door, or pick up any laundry that has fallen on the floor. I am obsessively sweeping and cleaning. I hate mice.
I got up on day two and checked all my sticky pads. And there, on the one behind the bathrooom door was the grey mass. Nope, not the mouse, but lots of fur. The little sucker had gotten stuck and managed to get away, leaving his rat colored evidence behind. I call Chris at work to give him an "update".
I said: "Dude, you've got a rat with a brazilian living in your closet."
(I hope ratzilla is traumatized. I know I am)
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