EXCERPT: And of course, wherever rodents go, they leave their calling cards behind. Over the years the mouse and rat turds accumulated behind the walls. Whenever we bumped into the walls or tried to hang a picture–whenever anyone so much as touched those walls, you could hear the most recent rodent deposits trickle slowly to the floor. It sounded like one of those rain sticks you can buy at the nearest New Age crafts store. So in the brutal heart of a typical canyon country summer, listening to the gentle beat of mouse turds behind our walls was such a comfort. On demand, we could conjure up the sensation of a light summer rain. Blessed we were beyond my ability to describe it.
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