I like them better dead

For the past few days, Coco has been leaving little presents for us around the patio.

Cute little furry grey presents with tiny tails and sweet little paws, all in various states of chewed-up-edness.

Generally, I am quite fine with scooping up the wee body parts outside the back door, because it means the little bastards are not in my house.

Until tonight.

Etienne and I were sitting with Eva at the kitchen table this evening, when she let out a whoop. 

A MOUSE.

IN THE HOUSE.

(hey, I almost have a Dr. Seuss book there.  But I digress)

The little bum immediately scooted into the radiator near the back door.  Coco lurked there for quite some time, jamming her paws into it repeatedly and then bouncing back in expectation. 

NOTHING. 

We tried to help by turning on the radiator and smoking the little sucker out, but that didn't work either.  And yes, I know that's cruel.  NATURE IS A CRUEL MISTRESS, BABY.

So now I have a mouse that will likely bake in my radiator.

I have a daughter cowering in her bed because "the mouse might come out".

I have a good friend coming to stay tomorrow...a good friend who is very understanding about this sort of thing, especially considering what happened to her the LAST time she was here (Coco left a still-twitching mouse on Cara's pillow during a thunderstorm.)  But there's only so much wildlife a visitor can embrace in a house.

Coco, meanwhile, has blithely scampered off to cruise the hood.

I am too tired to worry about it.

Blithely scampering off to cruise my BED.

I have a feeling Cara's the one who will find the mouse anyway.

Thunderstorms are in the forecast.

And this time, I put TWO pillows on her bed.