Dare I hope that 6 is the magic number?

Last night, I murdered another young mouse. I thought I heard it by Kashi's food bowl (his downstairs bowl is Cheerios), so I put down a sticky pad beneath his bowl in the exit path from beneath the antique cabinet. Suddenly, there was quite a clamor as the mouse found itself stuck half on and half off. It sure could shriek.

Today, when I arrived home from work (I am quite tired of being treated as if I am a pariah of germs there after two weeks of being ill), I rather brave ly checked all the current sticky pad locations. Nary a mouse in sight.

My relief knew no bounds.

I know it is too optimistic to think that 6 could be the number...but I desperately hope it is.