One of the more charming things about living in a rural area is the occasional visitation by the odd field mouse. We've had one roaming around the house for some time now. Our cat thought it was a toy to be played with rather than a rodent to be killed. Makes me wonder why we have a cat in the first place.
Anyway, it finally got to the point where we had to call in an exterminator. No sooner had he laid the traps under the kitchen sink did we catch a mouse. Whether it was the same one we had seen before is debatable. It's also not clear whether he is the only invader of our home. I guess we'll find out soon enough.
For some strange reason this all has me thinking of a Robert Burns poem.