Mice and Listening to Dad

Last night we had dinner at a fine little tiny restaurant in the West Village called Tanti Baci Caffe. My parents say it is one of those places where you see it all the time and always think 'let's go there' but forget about it. Well we went. Its about the size of a shoe box and it has an outdoor patio. The food I heard is great, simple fresh pastas. Anyway I am not here to give restaurant reviews since I don't eat people food, but I am here to tell you about my experience, and last night I learned about MICE!

See sitting outside, I noticed these little fuzzy things running along the edges of the street. I was teathered to my table, and everytime one went, I would jump up, yank everything off the table crashing to the ground trying to catch one of these little things. I couldn't do it. So eventually after dinner, and as the area cleared out, my dad pulled me aside and said let me give you some father puppy pointers.

He said: "The key here is to block the mice from returning to their den, so you have to cut in towards then den driving them out to the open area where you can catch them."

I heard: "pant, pant, pant, blah blah blah blah"

So needless to say, I spent a lot of time trying to find them as they shot back into their holes, and I didn't catch any of the mice. Last night I learned that even with little fuzzy mice you should always listen to your dad.