Little mouse, little mouse, are you in the Pendleton house?

A little over a week ago I was up late reading a book when I heard a scratching sound coming from the wall. I ignored it at first, but as it continued my mind began to concoct all the things that could be making that sound. A giant roach? A rat? The ghost of a construction worker accidentally buried during the construction of our house? I finally concluded that it must be some kind of hideous rodent trying to make an entrance into our house. I gave the wall a pound and the scratching stopped. The next day I told Alex and he said that he had heard it that morning. He put out some traps with peanut butter for bait.

A few days later our pest control guy, Kevin, came for his monthly appointment. I told him about the rodent problem. He put out a box trap with bait in it.

"There's plenty of bait in there," he said.

So I said, "So the mouse eats the bait and gets poisoned then dies?"

"Right. So if you find a dead mouse just get a tissue and pick it up and throw it in the trash."

Gag.

Two days ago I was in the garage loading the kids in the car. Something, which looked like trash on the floor, caught my eye. Upon closer inspection I realized that it was a little brown mouse. Not a huge rat like I had envisioned; just a little, almost cute, brown mouse. It looked like it was sleeping.

I left with the kids to run errands and when we got back I showed them the mouse. Then I got some toilet paper and picked it up and put it in the trash. And I can't believe I'm saying this, but part of me felt bad for the mouse. It was just trying to find some food. It meant us no harm. So rest in peace, little mouse. Someday we'll have a world where we can coexist.