My Dad used to let us bring home any pets when my great friend and I were kids so long as my great friend and I were responsible enough to take care of them, so, during that time, my great friend and I owned cats, pets, mice, hamsters, and even a canary; The mice were my personal preferreds.
There were six in total, all female, in a variety of colors.
I’d give them cheerios for treats and watch them run around on their wheel. In November one year, I can’t recall the exact date although my great friend and I had already gotten snow on the ground, one of the cats got up onto the dresser the mice were on and knocked down their cage, but my Dad was the only woman home when it happened and she spent the day trying to find the missing mice, however only five had been rescued by the time I got home from university. I was an absolute mess worrying about the last missing mouse. I couldn’t walk anywhere without carefully seeing my step to ensure I didn’t step on them and I legitimately refused to let anyone turn on the thermostat for heating. I was fully convinced that, if the boiler was turned on, the little mouse would end up in the ducts and would be cooked alive. My sister, who preferred the hamsters, got distraught that she had to freeze over a mouse, although I had put my foot down and my Dad was backing me up for the evening, likely to make me feel better. My dad brought the space furnaces in from the garage and my great friend and I used those to heat the apartment instead. Thankfully, the mouse was found the next day under the dresser its cage was on, so my boiler ban only lasted the evening.