Short story, actually.
This morning we woke up to a loud noise and burning smell. A mouse had climbed into our furnace motor blower, got cozy, and met his doom when the heat kicked on. We had to call in the furnace guy to pry him out.
I’m not sure if this counts as a win for the fat lazy cats, or as a Pyhrric victory for Team Mouse.
Lynn: Glad to be of service.
Lois: I was in bed with a fever that morning, so Chris handled the mouse-extraction. I think he was too busy mopping up to take a photo. To the relief of all, I suspect.
Mouse in furnace. Yes, we’d taken care of ours last summer when the fan motor made a gawd-awful noise. The furnace repair guy (Filiberto) asked for a bunch of paper towels. Ew. But that doesn’t top the least weasel who somehow got into our furnace and died during the temperate season, and quietly began rotting. As soon as we kicked the heat on, the fetid smell of bad meat permeated the house and we slammed the thermostat back down to 40 degrees so my husband could open up the furnace, remove the filter and see what was behind it. Who knew that such a small critter could put up such a huge stench? Thanks for the memories!
No pix? You call yourself a journalist?