If it's just the one critter, well then, "It's an industrious little fart," comments The Man.
Here's how it goes: The little fart takes cat food out of Molly's bowl,
right from under her nose,
across the wooden deck,
down two steps,
along the concrete sidewalk,
into the garage,
across the garage floor,
and makes deposits of the tasty bits in our shoes. We've been through this once before.
But this time The Man has found nuggets in and around his motorcycle: his riding gloves - each leather finger stuffed fat with kibble - and also the engine compartment.
Not sure how well pet food acts as fire starters but it would be an extremely bad thing to find out while cruising down the highway at 65 miles-per-hour and have the engine burst into flames. Yeehaw.
Yes, it's unfortunate to have to set a mouse trap for a critter that makes you laugh out loud.
The last two nights The Man has set a trap and each night he's caught a mouse. He said the mouse on the first night was the fattest mouse he ever saw. And it was missing part of a foot and part of a tail. "A three-legged mouse." Not fresh wounds, old healed-over wounds.
A survivor of past flights.
The mouse traps were baited with dry pet kibble. Not a bad way to go - fat and (hopefully) happy.
