The baby mice are gone. Last night when I came home from Bellydancing I looked in the little box I put them in and they weren’t there or anyplace that I could see in my studio.
This morning there’s no sign of mice.
No dropping anywhere. But I am going to have a look through my selves just to be sure. I have a feeling they’re in the wall, which is fine with me.
If I do find I have a family of mice living in my studio, I’ll get some Have-a-Heart traps and try to catch them that way.
The cats leave the stomachs of mice on the doorstep all the time, and I have no problem with that. It’s one of the reasons we have the cats to keep the rodent population under control. And in the house, I have no problem putting out traps (or I should say Jon puts them out).
I don’t want mice in the kitchen.
But I felt different about those little baby mice in my studio yesterday. They were so vulnerable, so defenseless. I know it doesn’t make sense, but feelings often aren’t rational.
If my studio was overrun with mice I know I’d feel different. But it isn’t so yesterday my feeling won out.