Came home Sunday night and found my butter bowl of sloe pits was empty.

Been filling that small bowl with pits from the larger bowl of sloe that I was slowly eating away, after picking the entire crop when the snowstorm arrived. And saving all the pits to plant along our back fence.

And now it's empty.

First accused the wife, suspecting she was tired of the detritus sitting on the cutting board that we use as extra counter space.

Nope. not guilty. Or at least not wanting to confess.

Challenged the eldest son about throwing out my plum pits, and he denied it with that usual look that he thinks his father is losing it.

Yeah, right. There's only seven of us in the house, and I know it wasn't me, or one of the three heelers, or the dove.

This morning as she's preparing to leave for work, and I am semi-peacefully sleeping in, the wife mentions... "By the way, your plum pits? The bowl's empty again."

"I think we have a visitor."

So, after they've left, I check. Yep, pit bowl is empty again.

And a couple of the uneaten sloe in the red bowl are actually partially eaten. And up on the counter, in the corner by the toaster, are a half-dozen itty-bitty little dark objects.

Craaap.

Literally.

We got ourselves a mouse.

Hopefully only a mouse, that is.

Well, the house is over a half-century old now, and we have been 100 percent rodent free so far. Perhaps we're due. And with the heeler Mom having to take such long constitutionals before getting her business done outside, once the mosquitoes got froze out, we've been in the habit of leaving the front door open for up to 20-30 minutes at a time so she can come in when she's done.

Obviously not wise.

So, somewhere in this place is a cache of forty or fifty sloe pits, and a little mousy who thinks it's set for winter.

And now, there's a live trap set on the cutting board.

Baited with sloe pits.