The mouse, he is dead.
Know how I know?
Because the mouse, who was supposed to take the poison back to his NEST and die, or die somewhere in my walls, with winter keeping the decay smell at bay, in a last ditch effort to annoy me, chose to die in the middle of my dining room floor.
So I had to go pick him up.
But he wasn’t quite dead yet. In fact, he told me he was feeling much better!
But apparently not better enough to run off to his nest, so I still had to pick him up. Ugh. This is when I want to have a man around.
How many more do we suppose I will find, half dead on my floor? Anyone want to place some bets?