I'm sitting quietly, watching TV, paying a few bills, when this mouse saunters in. (Note: he did not run, he did not scurry, he MOSIED if anything, first, under the back door and somehow UP my windowsill, where, looking around, he spies a cup. So he crawls in it. After all, the cup seems a nice stopping off point to a mouse in a house on a cold winter night. "I'll stop here" thinks the mouse, clearly unaffected by my very large, very overweight cat, Boo, who is piled up in a goat bowl by the sink in the kitchen, nowhere in sight, not that it would've mattered.)
There was a time when a mouse this size (or any size) would've sent me leaping and screaming...looking for something high (which obviously makes no sense as clearly the mouse has mastered heights). There was even a time when Boo would've noticed, and at the very least, would've pretended to play with said mouse.
There is even a season when mice don't rule, but only because I have a big, fat black snake living on my deck ...in charge of mice. (But that's in the summer.)
I look at the mouse...think "Right. Winter. Lucky you. Boo's lazy and Joe Blacksnake hibernates when it's cold."
And with that I return to my regularly scheduled program. For this is life in the country. (I am not thrilled to be sharing my space with a mouse. But it would've been far more stressful to see the little dude's feet glued to a sticky trap, so considering the alternatives, what cha gonna do?)
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