[This happened Monday. Shut up, I've been busy.]

Goat is a cold-blooded killer. Cold. Blooded. He killed the office mouse.

I was in the back room working with one of our test machines when I caught a flash of movement out of the corner of my eye. It was the mouse scampering across the carpet. I use "scampering" loosely because he was actually pretty sluggish, but scampering seems like the kind of thing a mouse would do.

I was pretty surprised by this. How often do you eyeball the mouse in the house? Those things find the most obscure corners in which to hide, and generally stay there until you've gone away. I wonder what could have brought Mousy out right in front of me in the middle of the day?

I called Goat over so he could share in the oddity. "Bold little sucker, innit?" I said.

"Not anymore." [squish]

Goat squished Mousy under the toe of his shoe. Perhaps he's an old hand at mouse stomping because he seemed to know exactly how much pressure to use to crush the mouse without leaving mouse guts all over the place. Goat then scooped up Mousy's still-twitching body and threw him/her out into the snow.

Sniff, sniff.

Now we're going to need a new office mascot.