There are other times of horrible disaster when I am less than sympathetic. 'Sir, I'm really sorry your house and everything in it was destroyed, but why did you try to balance it way on top of that pole? Or next to a volcano? Or in that hollowed out swamp? If you build a house on the San Andreas Fault, I'm thinking it's your fault and not San's.
This is the part of the post where you might want to go see what
I got up with energy to do stuff and on my list of to do stuff is change the plow blade from the tractor and put on the mower attachment.
Seriously, this post isn't going to get better from this part. Go see
Now here is where not brilliant house building places and my garden tractor meet.
It meets with a mouse.
If you're
There was a mouse. Much like Mary, Jesus' mom, this mouse needed lodging and there, low and behold there was a wonderful place. Safe from harm and predators, it was warm and even let a little light in. And as far as she knew, it was a stable place. It probably hasn't moved for as long as she could remember.
The little mouse saw the garden tractor, I'm guessing 2 weeks ago, and set up shop.
They never saw it coming. No warning. Just silence and darkness. They probably never heard the engine start.
So instead of pulling off the plow blade, I delicately pulled apart the tractor engine. The little family is set at the entrance to the barn. Together.
Save one.
I'm vague on how it happened, but the little guy was thrown clear. His name is Longshot. We set him up where the tractor was parked hoping that Mom would come back, but after 4 hours he was still there, alone.
Orphan mice have a small window of a chance. We had to do something.
We bought a 5 dollar cage and some queen's milk and every hour on the hour I'm gonna try to get him to eat.
I've been to some websites, I have a little clue.
There is a chance that Longshot might make it.
Stay tuned.