Oh crap

Mouse crap, to be exact. Mouse crap on my kitchen counter, a decent sized-sprinkling, under my clean dishes. I noticed Daphne-Moon had been looking in an excited predatory way under the stove recently and I was hoping she'd keep Mr. Mouse-ums at bay but, well, given that she's only ever killed one-and-a-half mice. (I had to finish the job on the second rodent, which I did by putting it in an elevator that played muzaked-Coldplay songs. OK really I rolled it up in some paper towels, then in a plastic shopping bag, apologizing all the while, before STOMP! I squished it with my foot.)

So now I've got to do something about the mouse problem and my heart has shrunk to the point where I might just go for poison, as opposed to the hav-a-heart traps, but I'm worried D-Moon might eat it. Glue traps are out of the question, as are the snappy ones. I wish I could just write them a nice note and ask them to go but let's be honest, it's cold outside, and they don't speak English.