One night, when Mike and I were both asleep, I woke to hear the sound of a guitar strum. It came from the corner of our bedroom where the guitar sits upright on a stand. I looked over and saw that Mike was still next to me. “That’s odd,” I thought, and then: “Mike, did you hear that?” “Yeah,” he said. “I guess that wasn’t you playing.” Then we both turned to each other like “What the.....?” We got quiet and heard scuffling around the walls. Mike’s guess was that the mouse had hopped onto the guitar strap and the guitar strap fell, with the mouse, across the strings. Me, I think that the mouse got tired of roaming the kitchen and wanted to try her hand (er, paw) at music.
Fast forward to present day: the mouse is back, but this time it seems to be roaming the living room/kitchen area. We throw out our saggy mattress and get a low-to-the-ground platform bed. “Do you think that the mouse will be able to get up here?” asks Mike. “Only if it has a javelin or a cape,” I say.
As long as Mousey does not snuggle right next to me, s/he is welcome to stay at 46 First Street. Guitar concerts are gladly welcomed!