On my way out the door this morning, as I was grabbing yogurt out of our fridge (ok, fine, it was Scooby Doo kids go-gurt!), I heard a rustling noise under the fridge. At first I thought it was just veggies shifting in the bottom drawer, but then I decided it might have been a mouse under the fridge!
We have three freakin’ cats, how the heck do we have a mouse in our house? Their one job is to take care of flies and other pests, in return for love, toys and cuddles, but apparently they’re not pulling their weight around here.
Or else maybe they brought the mouse in themselves. They’ve left dead mice on our front foyer before. And lizards, birds and gophers, as nice little “presents.” I wonder if maybe they only injured a mouse and it escaped?
Either way, I’ll be spending tonight pulling out the fridge and scrubbing our whole kitchen with bleach. Even though in middle school I had pet hamsters and two baby mice (that a friend managed to kill in two separate incidents, within a half hour of each other), wild ones gross me out!
Damn cats. There’s a reason why I’m more of a dog person than a cat person. At least dogs will clean up spilled food on the floor and bring you your slippers. They know how to make themselves useful!