My house is always mouse-free, because of two particular little exterminators:
Sophie and Harley.
I don't know how they do it, but once in a while I will find a dead mouse on the floor. It will be soaking wet and thoroughly deceased. Bereft of life it rests in peace. It's pushing up daisies and gone to join the choir invisible.
You know: dead.
But apparently I've gone over-kill on the mouse-prevention team--quite literally.
Last week I opened the bathroom door after my shower to find not only a dead mouse, but a dismembered one. Russell and Milton had joined in on the quest.
It was awful, disguisting, revolting and made me queezy.
And I couldn't have been prouder.