#1 Reason Why I Can't Keep a Pet Mouse

We don't have a mice problem in our place, so Doodle goes out and looks for one. Literally. She actually brought this guy into the apartment. From outside of the apartment. Like, the actual outside. But live on the seventh floor. I left the back door open once. After taking off, she plucked him out of neighboring building's garbage room (which also it's door also open on this particularly hot summer night), carried him (and tortured him) all the way from the adjoining alley, through the laundry room windows and through the laundry room, up the 7 flights of stairs, and finally, into the bathroom of my apartment. I know this because I busted her out there once, 3 buildings away. Glimmering eyes shining back at me: What are you gonna do about it, bitch? This mouse was lucky. I've awoken to a two mouse bloodbath in the bathroom. She rips them in half and eats the head and arms half, leaves the bottom half of the mouse costume. Disturbing. Very disturbing, Doodle. It's bad enough that you can't respect my rules about curfew, and entirely another to bring your creepy friends over to play when I'm not home. And then murder them in my bathroom, no less. You know what? You're grounded.