Thanks, Tully!

So, about a week ago, I noticed the little mouse hole by the downstairs toilet intake valve was open again. I had stuffed it with Bounce sheets, as I read somewhere that mice can't stand the smell. Well, some mouse with no sense of smell apparently pushed through. I found one of our "no-kill" traps and put it out, and restuffed the hole with Bounce.

It was pushed out again the next day, and the trap was flipped. I picked up the trap, but no mouse was inside. Hmmm. Reset the trap, restuffed the Bounce, wondered what exactly Tully, our cat, was doing around the house if not killing little mice.

Friday morning, I noticed a dead mouse outside on the front walkway. I was going to head out to clean it up after I finished my coffee, but Harrison beat me outside. I heard him crying and rushed out to see what was wrong.

"Mouse!" he cried.

"It's OK, sweetie. Did you see a mouse? Yeah, I think that mouse is only hurt. Mommy will move him so he's more comfortable!" Yep, lying through my teeth.

Or so I thought. When I went to pick up the "dead" mouse, it was actually moving. My skin began crawling in full-on Heebie Jeebies as I carefully picked up the dying mouse with the dog poop rake and moved him to a "more comfortable" death bed, under a tree in an area neither dogs nor boys frequent.

Just typing that makes my skin crawl further.

So, not only does Tully leave partially dead mice on our front walkway, but she also neglects to kill the mice who saunter into our house at will. Yeah, thanks, Tully!