We came home to find a wounded mouse in the corner. (Sometimes our cat doesn't finish the job - lazy!)
I pointed it out to Buddy and he goes wild. "Mommy, don't kill it. Don't kill it, Mommy!..."
OK. I had horrible visions of trying and failing to nurse the dang thing back to health.
"Mommy, don't kill it!" He said "I"m gonna kill it!"
And he did.
I really wasn't sure whether to be icked out or proud.
Saturday, July 02, 2011
Mouse patrol
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1 comment:
In the old days I would scoop up the wounded mice and squeamishly dump them in the undergrowth, with a vague "Good luck mouse/Out of sght out of mind" feeling.
Obviously those days are gone; with Terminator Bill around I never see a *live* mouse anymore...
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