Great story about the mice. For the record, I see mice living outdoors also, and though I've never had one, I know rats (much larger cousins of mice) can and do also live in houses.
This is not my story, but one that my father told. Back in probably the 1950's they didn't have the nice injection molded Port-O-Potties that we know these days, but instead at construction sites would set up a crude outhouse formed with corrugated metal sheeting bent around until the two ends met and open at the top. ( Not sure if there was even a door or if you just sort of pulled the ends to.) Anyway, there was one of these set up in an obviously inopportune spot along the fairway and according to my dad, when he hooked a drive into the top of the thing you could hear the ball "spinning" around inside sounding like a machine-gun and sending a very indisposed construction worker diving out for his life. It would have been pure gold on YouTube.
My own story involves my brother-in-law who was down for a visit some years ago during one of my many periods of not actively playing. Somehow it was agreed that he and I would play, and I approached the whole thing with as positive an attitude as possible recognizing that he was a pretty good player and I was a hacker that hadn't played in several years. We got to the first tee and I won the coin toss to hit first, and knowing my own weaknesses decided to cut my losses and just hit a three iron. After a practice swing or two (no driving range...) I took my shot. Call it muscle memory if you like, I call it dumb luck, but I hit it really pure and walked off the tee feeling pretty good about myself.
My poor brother-in-law, who no doubt had every reasonable expectation of trouncing me that day, then walked to the tee with his driver in hand and a steely determination to out drive that three iron shot chiseled on his face. When his knuckles turned white on the grip I thought he might be in trouble. He took a full and majestic back-swing prior to shanking the ball into the cart shed, the door of which was obviously badly situated. I can tell you for sure that the ball ricocheted around in there for a good 15-20 seconds and attracted a good bit of attention.
Needless to say, in the end I got the trouncing that was due me for laying off the game, but it wasn't until about the sixth hole that the poor guy started to settle down and play the game he was capable of.