We did some much neglected laundry last night and there was a basket of clean in the bedroom that I had not folded or put away yet. Jim went to put on his outdoor pants to run to the supermarket, and found a mousie lying dead on top, quite old and stiff.
Jim disposed of the critter, and I sat on the bed with Frosty and folded the rest of the laundry. We haven't had mice for years, and now two in a single year - weird.
I referred to Frosty as "mousie-hunter", but Jim isn't buying the hunting bit, so he's currently being referred to as "mousie-gatherer."
I doubt it will replace his current nickname of "Pork Buns" though...