11:07 p.m. - Sunday, Apr. 18, 2004
Mousy Day
Today, not much has happened for the humans in my life. However, it has been a very exciting Mouse Day.

The day began with an exciting dressing gown adventure in front of the telly. Once Martha had been extracted from the cage, she was left to her own devices on the desktop whilst Maisy was 'persuaded' (sometimes known as hauled) from the nest. Further persuasion was then required to remove Martha from the chocolate drop box, wherein she had seated herself.

Both mice then began their adventure all over me as I watched the marathon. They were a little disturbed from their explorations as 1, mice are not allowed on the soft furnishings, and 2, they are unbearably cute when held both in one hand like a little furry bundle. They also stay put as they like being next to one another (although they are prone to treading on one another's faces in a most undignified fashion).

Soon, the inevitable happened. A wet hand and a rather pungent smell gave me cause to deposit both mice on my shoulder while I headed for the soap and water (of course, they didn't stay on my shoulder - Maisy making a bid for freedom down my front while Martha opted for the relative safety of the inside of my collar.)

Seems my mice have a sense of humour. The air was almost immeadiately filled once more with musky wafts, and I am still yet to find the deposit responsible. Hmph.

So adventure over, the girls returned home for a well earned sleep.

Mid afternoon, the excitement continued in the form of a fragment of crisp (chip, for my American readers). A red letter day indeed. Crisps are almost overtaking chocolate drops in the mouse preference stakes. However, there is a firm rule to crisps - I hold, they nibble. Plainly, mice are not designed to cope with salt, and I do not wish to have hypertensive rodents. This concept confused Maisy a little. A tug at the crisp was enough to establish it wasn't coming away. A tug at each fingernail established that these were tasteless. Help arrived in the small, black form of Martha, an old pro, who gave a short demonstration. In no time, both mice were politely taking turns to remove a mouthful of potato.

Following this excitement, a treat for Maisy: strips of old shirt cuff. Within an hour those mice had the finest tartan nest in town.

The last treat of the day was the greatest. The mouse gods had smiled upon Tesco. Lo, there were no salted crisps to be had. Thus, crisps with a seperate salt portion were purchased. And, henceforth, each mouse recieved an unsalted crisp before bed, and there was much rejoicing.

I must also point out that morality is taught in my mouse cage. Maisy pinched Martha's crisp, which meant it was only fair to give the second one to the now crisp-less Martha. Honest mouse gets three times as much crisp as stealing mouse! All good crisps come to those who wait.

She who squeaks last, squeaks longest.

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