I have a mouse. In my office. My office is next door to my flat, which if I lived in New York, I would call my apartment. Because I can walk home, I often work late hours, and in the earlier hours of the morning I have often thought I saw a mouse. Now I am sure.
I haven’t seen Stuart Little but have read ‘The Green Mile’ by Stephen King. His doomed hero, John Coffey, 
on the Green Mile, had a mouse called Mr Jingles.
Tonight my mouse did a bit of Mr Jingles. He sort of introduced himself, repeatedly. Which is good news, I’m glad he’s not invisible anymore. He’s very wary, but almost like saying hello.
And small, my God, an inch and a bit. With the cutest mouse eyes. He must feel like Gulliver in the land of the Brobdingnags. Given that I have suspected his presence here for sometime, I am loathe to try and ask him to leave.
It is after all, just an office, not a house, and he is after all, just a mouse.
Awwww…how cute. Just don’t let him get anywhere near a fridge. We had a mouse die in our drip tray the other week. Nasty, nasty stuff. I noticed that there was a gross smell in the kitchen, coming from the fridge, and even went through and pulled stuff out and sniffed it myself (which I haven’t done since a nasty incident with month old tuna 10 years ago. This is what my older brother is for) trying to source it. I couldn’t find it, and no one else could smell it. It got worse and worse, and other people finally noticed it. We cleaned out the fridge and cupboards. Smell got nastier. Dad realised it smelt like decomposing something, and pulled the back off the fridge to investigate. Poor Dad, who got the job of removing mouse who had probably been dead a week or so, and mum, who was too stupid to escape while she could, inform me it was literally vomit worthy. I wouldn’t know, because I escaped to my room downstairs, with the door closed and windows open, for a couple of hours. The disinfectant smell didn’t disappear for days, bit it was most definitely better than rotting mouse.
I feel that this experience needs sharing where ever it can potentially save other people from the same trauma, because, well, eeeeewwwww. I’m sure your mouse is lovely, though.
Ceridwen, thanks for the heads up. I guess he isn’t so cute anymore. He’s still alive, running hither and thither, but I must admit to a fridge in the vicinity.
While mouse has his house behind my filing cabinets, he often takes a run into the next room, where I store boxes etc. Unfortunately, there is also a fridge in that room.
You have me worried. I surprisingly, heard the same story from my parents, when I visited them in January, about a cute mouse, that ended up dead, and smelling, behind the fridge.
I took no notice. The synchronicity of this is disturbing.