Century homes have lots of little cracks for mice to squeeze through when they're seeking to escape the cruel winter. We have always had mice in the house in the cold weather. For the most part we live with their scrambling in the walls and their tiny droppings by the compost box until they return to the great outdoors in spring. Occasionally, much to my chagrin, Mr. Nag decides to purge them. Personally, if it weren't for the hantavirus, I'd make pets of them - I'm crazy about their big brown eyes. This summer our rodent guests have decided to forego the rigours of nature and have hunkered down indoors. Last night one of the little buggers (all 2 inches of him) rampaged through the family room in full view. He scampered behind the bookcase each time I screamed EEEK! at him. Finally he ran into the bathroom. I summoned Baby Nag who fearlessly scooped the little varmint up in a dish towel and took him outside. Hear that, Karen? I'll rent Baby Nag to you if you're tired of the bloody tableau that has been dominating your domestic life.
(Part of me can't help but wonder if, by disposing of the vermin, Baby Nag has blown his opportunity to become a world class chef.)
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