There's A Limit

It's a bit like providing valet parking for bank robbers.  Every morning I find one or two, sometimes five or six, mice in the covered grain bucket hung high on the wall.  Acrobatic little devils that they are, they chewed an entrance hole just under the top edge.  It used to be that they'd leap out like popcorn and scatter when I pried off the lid.  The last few days, there they sit in the bucket, waiting for me to pick them up and set them free.  I don't know whether they've eaten themselves into a stupor or if they just want better service.

And there's another thing.  Mouse Mama is still working on her nest behind the old curry brush.  Trying to be a good neighbor and help out, I've been putting bits of fluff down for her after grooming the girls and I put her brush back if it falls off the shelf.  But, yesterday I found that she's started nibbling on the new brush.  That is going too far and we're going to have to have a talk.

Regardless of what I'm doing or how comfortably I might be ensconced in my recliner, I open the door for cats and dog (who cannot seem to organize and come and go as a unit).  I open the treat drawer and go to the milk bone box when requested.  I hurry to put out seed for the birds who hang about tapping their impatient toes in the morning.  I play ring-around-the-rosy with the goats.  I try to accommodate all the furred and feathered creatures here, but I must learn to set boundaries.  There's a limit!