Mouse poop.

That's right. You read that correctly: mouse poop on the kitchen counter this morning, and more specifically in Kent's formula containers. I normally fill them with the right number of scoops and close them shut so that they're ready to add to water for the next feeding. Last night, I guess I got lazy and left them empty and open. Bad idea.

These dropping don't come from a cute mouse who wears yellow shoes, red shorts and white gloves and says hello kids! They don't come from a tiny rat who is also a chef in Ratatouille.

Instead, it's one of those yucky mice - you know, with diseases and beady eyes and fleas and fangs and claws and an unmistakable squeak as he scrounges for food. Nasty.

UPDATE!!!!!!! AS I AM WRITING THIS IN THE LIVING ROOM, THE MOUSE CAME OUT FROM UNDER THE STOVE BUT RAN AWAY AS SOON AS I STARTED FRANTICALLY POKING MATTHEW.

Make it stoooooppp!!!!!!!!

We have a trap set on the counter, but I will not sleep a wink knowing that at some point during the night, I will hear "SNAP". I just can't.