Mice

When I was 4-years old, the cabin we shared with some family friends had a mouse problem. My family loves to tell the story of my dad emptying out mouse traps with me following behind him saying,"dad, they're sorry. They won't do that again." I hated to see the mice get in trouble (little did my preschooler mind understand the consequence of mice getting in trouble which was an awful, poisoned death) just for coming I I the cabin.

 

This week I caught 2 mice in my electrocution trap.

My 37-year old self doesn't feel any differently about killing mice than my 4-year old self. I hate killing things, but I also hate mice poop in my baking dishes so it's a compromise. 

And on a lighter, unrelated note. Millie is teaching me a little bit about living her best life. Here she is after having dumped out a whole bag of trail mix just to eat the M&Ms.  At 8 am. The quest for chocolate can't start too early or be dissuaded by too many peanuts, almonds or raisins.