So I’m sitting in the front room with Tracy while my dad is boring us to death, with his latest trip to the hospital, when he gets up to go to the toilet and I spot something on his cushion.
Thinking it was paper money that had fallen out of his pocket (a regular occurrence) I went to pick it up, but as I got closer I realised it wasn’t money. I thought it was food until I had my face about an inch from it and realised it was a dead mouse.
My dad had sat on, and squashed, a baby mouse with his giant arse.
I was more interested in where it came from rather than the fact that my dad had been sitting on it for hours. Where had it come from? We live on the first floor, so don’t have a garden. Had it come from next door? Had he brought it in with him when he was out?
Of course I got the blame for it.
I did a full scope of the flat and there was no other signs, this is a one off. But I still want to know how the little fellow got in before he met his demise.
Thank goodness he didn’t get into our food storage.