I have a mouse in the house

I was watching Training Day in the living room tonight. It had just started too. I heard it. I heard the soft bumping noises that only tiny critters can make. I knew my faithful cat was outside and that it couldn't be him, so I stayed in the recliner and continued with my movie hoping to avoid any sort of conformation that there was, in fact, a mouse in the house. I did this mainly because I have a problem with mice. It's not the typical problem that most have. It's quite the opposite actually. My problem with mice is that I don't have a problem with mice. I can't kill them but I know that they can't live in the house because they wreck things and are just somewhat terrible roommates in general. I can't kill them because I feel badly about it. They're not doing anything wrong, they're just trying to make it through the day like everyone else. And it's not as if they intentionally try to upset humans. They actually go out of their way to accommodate our behaviors. It's very dangerous for a mouse. Everything wants to kill them everywhere they go! What a terrible and unfortunate set of circumstances to have to live in.

Anyway, I didn't get to live in ignorant bliss because the little feller came within two feet of me. He had found a chunk of dog biscuit under the couch and was transporting it somewhere. (That was the noise I was hearing) I looked at him, he looked at me, dropped the biscuit and hurried back under the couch. I went back to my movie thinking he would be terrified and leave. He wasn't. Or maybe he was but he was just really hungry. Or maybe his wife wanted a midnight snack and he didn't want to get yelled at for not bringing it back when he went out for smokes. Whatever the case may be, he kept coming out and I kept sitting up and away he would scurry. After a minute or two, he decided he wasn't going to run away anymore and we simply stared at one another. I suppose he deduced that I'm not the mouse killing type and neither is my cat. After about a minute or two of gazing at one another, I made a sudden movement followed by a yell. Mostly out of frustration because I don't want him to be in the house and I really only don't want him to be in the house because I don't want to kill him and I don't know that I am capable of killing him but he is sort of forcing my hand because everyone knows you can't have mice in your house. I haven't seen him since but I have a feeling that won't last long. I'm going to have to borrow a cat's cat from my mother before I start setting out food for him.