I cannot tell you how distressed I get
When Mom starts wacking poor little mice into walls and over balconies with broomsticks.
We first found it curled up on hand towels on the floor, alas it was just looking for somewhere comfy to die. (we’ve got poison rigged for the sorry mice)
I took a picture of it before we realized it was alive.
It was really spooked- as soon as it crawled off I tried to coax it into a box, but Mom just came at it with a broom…and then….
Ack. Poor Dear, poor thing. I could cry it was so tiny with it’s little translucent grey paws and raising, agitated, little chest.
Not a nice way to go getting poisoned and smacked into places with brooms.