Shortly after rising this morning, Crickett headed downstairs to continue her mouse shenanigans from last night. After I ate my breakfast, I went downstairs to lift her up to the window to show her once again that the little guy was gone.
OH. THE. HORROR.
As I held Crickett close to the window and started to say "Puppers, he's gone," I saw two beady eyes looking back at me. I screeched like a banshee and raced up the stairs. Heart pounding, knees shaking, I hysterically explained to Mitch that there was a mouse. He calmly acknowledged that there was indeed a mouse and even noted that it was a different one from last night; this one was smaller and even "kind of cute." I would have to say FALSE! to that sentiment. Silly hubby even suggested I take a photo. NO THANKS!
In order to get Crickett to understand that the mouse was going away, Mitch and I took her outside, let her look into the window well, had her watch Mitch catch the little critter, and then took her with to the field down the street so she could watch it run away. This seems to have done the trick because she hasn't gone down to the window since.
I'm now scared to go by the windows in my basement and I will not be hanging out in my backyard ever again. I think it's time to move. Where don't mice live?