That is the first line of a poem that my mom used to recite to me all the time when I was little... I LOVED that poem. I'm not such a lover of actual live rodents however. My dad, the prankster, caught a mouse in a trap once in our very first house in the United States. He took the mangled, dead, bloody body and put it in a sandwich baggie, then placed the sealed baggie in my older sisters bed for her to find when she went to sleep. I still remember hearing her scream. Good times.
Mike & Mike went to a camp out this past weekend with the boy scouts. Before they went to sleep for the night, Mike Sr noticed that the trash bag was right next to the boys tent, so not wanting them to have any uninvited visitors during the night, he put the trash bag in to the trunk of his car. (Aw, what a good leader!)
The next morning when he opened up his trunk, to his utter amazement he saw a big fat mouse scurry away under the piles of junk he had stashed in there. (I hear he screamed like a girl by the way!) He pulled everything out, but alas, the mouse was no where to be found.
Hoping that the mouse had somehow escaped, the boys loaded their stuff in to the back seat of the car with themselves and traveled home with the music blaring trying to petrify the mouse if he was still in there. They shook everything out vigorously to make sure they weren't bringing the little booger into our home and then Mike shut the trunk and hoped that if the mouse hadn't escaped he would at the very least die of starvation or of lack of oxygen.
Four days past and still no sign of the mouse. There was no smell indicating that an animal had died. There was no sound of rustling through the trunk. Mike blared the music every time he drove to stop the mouse from running across his feet and causing an accident.
I myself was hesitant to believe that the mouse had gone knowing that there was enough dirt and crumbs in Mike's trunk for that little thing to live for at least a month. Then yesterday a sign of the inevitable. Mouse droppings on the floor. Mike rushed to Target to get mouse traps and set them all with peanut butter in various places through the car. DeAnna moaned and groaned about killing the "cute little mouse" but I noticed she hasn't driven in that car since they got back... so we weren't overly worried that she would be traumatized.
This morning, success! Ding dong the mouse is dead. The car is being vacuumed and disinfected as we speak... Hurrah for leather seats!