It is my custom, upon returning home from work, to first tend to the animals. I feed the horses, goats, chickens, dogs, then cats. Our unfinished basement functions as a feedroom for these creatures, and tonight when I entered said feedroom, I saw something new.
A tiny baby mouse was sitting, frozen with fear, in the center of the room, and was being menaced by Monkey. Even though I know they're vermin, and teeming with disease, I have a soft spot for mice. Especially baby mice. So I chased Monkey off, and scooped the little mouselet into a plastic feed bucket. While I considered what to do next, I added some scratch grains to the bucket, to see if little Mickey was hungry. He was ravenous, and watching him eat made me realize I love him and have to raise him to adulthood, so I can release him outdoors and sing "Born Free" as he scampers off to meet some lady mice.
Later tonight, David found Mickey's brother in the same place, being menaced by Leo. I think it's nice that they have each other for company. They're safely installed in our laundry room now, still in the bucket, but now with pine shavings, delicious food, bedding and water. They look happy. I envision a time, once they're grown and out on their own, when we'll meet again. Probably I'll encounter them eating my crackers or pooping in my cutlery drawer, but I'll be happy to see them.
David won't, though. He still hates those meeses to pieces.
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