It began on a frigid Winter afternoon. A mouse was spotted in the bathroom. I caught him in a paper cup and headed for the door. Papa stopped me and told me it was cruel to put him outside. I reminded him that it had originally come from there and must have alternate lodgings.
Mice live outdoors all the time.
He would go home to his cozy nest filled with bits of fluff gathered in the Fall. Well, I must have been exposed to too much Beatrix Potter, because, unbeknownst to us, what he actually did was head for the center of our yard and promptly freeze solid. He seemed fabulously happy with himself. This is always cause for alarm. A peek beneath the table revealed his joy.