At my last house, I grew accustomed to having the occasional non-human intruder find its way into my house. When you live in the country, it's bound to happen. I had mice (maybe 4 or 5 a year), a chipmunk (that I was somehow able to catch and release), a bat (just its corpse), a big ol' snake (story HERE), and a three-toed sloth. The sloth was easy to catch. It moved like molasses.
Up until last night, I have not had any signs of a rodent breaching my perimeter. It's been nice. Megan and I were sitting on the couch when I heard what sounded like one of the cats puking. Her cat was inside and seemed fine. Mine was out on the deck, so I opened the door to let him in. It was dark, so I didn't understand why Megan was freaking out as the cat came into the light. He had a mouse in his mouth that was still alive (he likes to have a little fun with them prior to the execution). While he thought he was bringing us a present, we were less than enthused. He released it and it took off under a bookcase. Now, you should know that I am a bit of a baby when it comes to mice in my house. We tried for a while to corral it while cursing at my confused cat. Ultimately it found a hole that prevented any further hope of capture. The little bastard probably opened the door for his buddies and they're all probably having sex as I write this, producing more beady-eyed varmints to come fuck with my life.