At this very moment, a deer mouse is running wild in my house. Being of the cuter variety, he has sort of captured my fancy.
He is almost, but not quite, eating out of my hand. And he is leaving love biscuits everywhere. My house is a hantavirus incubation zone.
This is not a first for me. When my wife and I were first married, we had a deer mouse in our apartment, who did eat out of our hands. Unfortunately, he got nailed by a mouse trap that we forgot we had.
My son, to put it mildly, goes berserk .He does not understand how I can live like this. Guess he’s right.
If I could gently usher Mr. Mouse out the door, I would.
But it is starting to get cold out.