My mouse died in my kitchen.
This isn’t a picture of it but it’s less horrific than the reality:
(Yes. I obviously took photos of my dead mouse).
I found it in the trap The Council set for it.
It’s head was caved in and it’s eyes were open and sad and looking at me.
They were saying:
“But why Al? Why?
Look how small I am.
You’ve killed me.
You’ve killed me Alan”.
It did well to survive as long as it did in my house.
I almost never have food in the place and I’m obsessively tidy.
So that’s me a murderer now.
I’m going to miss the wee bugger.
Know what the worst part was?
I picked up the trap and the mouse’s head seperated from it’s body.
Rest in pieces.