They're still here. In the rubbish, they don't even quiet themselves when I'm near. I'm just one of the gang. I think of picking up the trash bag and just taking it out, there would be one less to deal with, but then I think of the widowed mouse-spouse weeping somewhere in the cupboards and a litter of mouse orphans wondering when, why mommy or daddy isn't coming home . ...
I can't do it.
And it's too cold outside.
There's one in the wall beside my computer, behind an old printing tray I use as a curio box. It rustles and chews incessantly. And in my bedroom, somewhere, I can hear it, but I can't see it or find it, somewhere down in the vents.
But they all come through the kitchen. To the rubbish. I need an aquarium so I can begin the round-up, start the big mouse collection.