I stare at the red smear, dim light at the top of the stairs illuminating my fuzzy slippers, their googly eyes looking back. Not knowing it was fresh I’d touched it; not believing it was blood, I’d put it to my tongue. Probably not the brightest test. Still, fear of ingesting foreign DNA paled in comparison to having it in my house. Alone with me.
Trodding stealthily, hair prickling the nape of my neck, I search for weapons. Oh, my god, oh my god! -- something warm squishes underfoot.
Trepidatiously, I reach down... What? A limp mouse. Dripping. Damn you, Cat!