Chasing Mice

I hear the scratching again. And the chewing. And more scratching. Yes, I have mice or maybe just mouse. Before we bought our house, it was being remodeled and mice were in the attic. I found this out AFTER we moved in! I had just moved from a house where mice, from the field behind us, had sought refuse from the cold in our kitchen pantry! Then, I buy a house and they are there, too! Every time I think they are finally gone, I hear another one! I don't like the idea of having to kill them, because they can be cute. (I know, I am crazy or something) But then whenever I have to wash another drawer full of Lydia's clothes because I find a little present was left on her sleeper, I am screaming, "Die, Fucker, Die!!!" Pardon my language, but that is how I feel! Anyway, the one I keep hearing is actually IN the wall. I hope it's stuck in there and dies and rots! But I don't want to smell anything! I know this isn't exactly the "look on the bright side" type of thing I said this site was going to be, but I just needed to vent.

I finally understand the violence of the following nursery rhyme:
"Three blind mice, three blind mice. See how they run, see how they run. They all ran after the farmer's wife, she cut off their tails with a carving knife. Did you ever see such a sight in your life as three blind mice?" She should have cut off their heads, instead!

See ya!
~Pascha