I’m not singing over the capture of this mouse. The last one I knew was there, I was aware of his nasty little habits. I had after all seen him run right through the front door. I knew how he got there and I knew how he’d be leaving. This little mousy corpse was unexpected, prepared for but unexpected. I was saddened by his death . . . well not exactly by his death but by his existence. If he’s living (or was living) in my house then there could be more . . . lots more. Oh, the country life. . . I wish it would rain.