I hate mice. Really, really hate them. Granted, I can't picture anyone saying that they love it when mice get in the house and wish more would. Growing up with a field behind the house, we had a lot of mice until we got a cat. A very mean (but funny) cat, but that's a different story. Our house now isn't far from a field. And when we first moved in, I found rat poison under the stairs, so it shouldn't surprise me when we get mice. And I should just be glad they aren't rats, since I have seen some nearby.
I will say that a dead mouse Molly found once made for a funny story. Totally grossed me out, but was funny. I still chuckle to myself when I think of Molly's innocent voice as she chased a screaming Emma up the stairs, "But it's nice!"
Anyway, I think the mice got in this time because of my leaving the back door open for the dog when I leave. Think I'm going to stop doing that. Russ set a trap up behind the computer because I told him I could hear one there a lot. Yesterday as I was getting off, I jumped a foot when I heard a very loud SNAP! Yep, the mouse was caught. Lys wanted to "wake it up," so I grabbed some pliers and threw the mouse (trap and all) in the garbage outside. Then washed my hands really well. I hoped that was the end of the mouse problem. But the occasional noise I hear as I sit here tells me otherwise. Too bad Xe doesn't catch mice like the cat taught Taiga (Lab we got when I was 12) to. She was good at catching mice. Xe, not so much.