Picture it: 4am, and I’m sleeping. A loud bark startles me — the dog is sleeping right on the pillow next to my head.
He’s barking at some squeaking he’s heard, I assure him that it’s the fan in the bedroom. Then I start to have my middle-of-the-night doubts, you know, where you are barely awake and start thinking that there are people in your house?
I turn off the fan, and sure enough, I hear squeaking. I look down the steps and see the cats conspiring at the bottom.
“Get away from that bird!” I squeal, and come downstairs expecting to find that they’ve brought a poor sparrow into the house.
Nope, there’s a little mouse cornered behind the sofa.
20 minutes, a cardboard box, and a broom later, the mouse — frightened nearly to death, I expect — found himself outside in the grass, wondering what happened.
Good morning!
