Ye Puir Wee Beastie

Friday morning, when I took Faithful Companion out for a walk before heading to work, I found a little field mouse, about the size of the end of my little finger, curled up in a ball in the driveway. I gave him wide berth (and distracted Faithful Companion) as we headed out.

On the trip back, he was still there. I went in for a closer examination. He seemed stunned. I rolled him over with my finger, and he responded, but returned to his little mouse fetal position.

And, he was about a foot and a half from the front tire of my father's car. And Friday is one of the days when my father goes to get the mail. So I scooped him into my hand, and moved him over into the yard.

When I got home from work, he was still there.

Huh. What to do.

Visions flashed through my head... I could get an aquarium... maybe he's sick... I could nurse him back to health... he looks young, maybe his mother abandoned him... 'oh that, why that's my pet mouse, his name is... STOP! No names! I definitely don't need a pet mouse! I moved him out of the driveway, and from here on in, he's on his own.

Saturday morning, when I headed to play softball, he was still there, curled under a dandelion.

...maybe just bring him something to eat, some corn meal, and maybe a lid full of water...

The Laird be thankee, he's gone today. Perhaps a cat or an owl swallowed him up in one bite, perhaps he regained his composure and headed off into the wide world. But either way, he's God's mouse now, and not mine.

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