"I forgot," I said. "It's been a while since we had a mouse in our house. Who can blame him for wanting to come in when it's so cold? It's butt-freezing cold outside. Minus thirty-eight! If I were a mouse, I'd want to be inside, too."
"Vermin!" he thundered.
"Think how painful it is to be caught on glue," I said, as calmly and as persuasively as I could. "How would you like to be stuck on glue? Think how terrible it is to struggle and have your skin torn off. Or, you struggle to free yourself, and if you can't get away, you chew off your foot! Where is your Jewish sense of compassion? Millions of mice have been sacrificed in the name of science! They have been sacrificed because of us! We should give this mouse a chance!"
"This mouse hasn't been sacrificed for anybody! Besides, they use white mice in labs. Not vermin!"
"Please," I pleaded. "It'll give me something to do. It'll be a challenge for me."
Earl's expression softened as he pondered my suggestion. He was constantly worried about my being alone all day during the winter while he was at work. I had moved to Winnipeg from California almost five years ago, after our wedding. I wasn't used to the endlessly long, gum-numbing, skin-searing, frigid winters that were a normal way of life in Winnipeg. Trying to catch the mouse would give me something to do.
"Okay," he said, finally giving in. "But you have 48 hours!"
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