The on-going war with the mice took a... weird turn this morning.
The trap I set earlier on in the week went off, and when I looked, there was a mouse, struggling for freedom. I know I should have dispatched the little beggar... but I didn't. And yes, I felt guilty about that.
This morning, when I went to remove the remains, no mouse could I find. I spoke with the aged parent and she said 'what mouse'? Nope, she didn't move it.
Before you think the mouse escaped, it couldn't given the metal bar across it's back. The traps I use are uber-strong - as my swollen thumb can testify after being caught when I accidentally set the thing off.
Oh, did I forget to mention the trap is missing too? Yeah. I have searched high and low, moved furniture around but there is no sign of the mouse or the trap. I am running out of places to look. The mouse must be dead, but I cannot, for the life of me work out how it moved the trap as well, caught as it was.
I'm guessing it's one of life's little mysteries - until the scent of death permeates the house, that is...