Two nights ago, I was down in my study, working ... and Gramsci was convinced there was a mouse sharing our space. He was fixated on the area under my mother's old desk, behind the books, behind more books... Admittedly, sometimes I thought I heard a very slight rustling - but it could have been a large moth (or, worse, still, a cockroach), but on balance, I thought it best (or cowardly) ignored.
No sounds yesterday, although Gramsci was strangely fixated when we went to bed. Usually he climbs onto my chest, into my arms, purrs. Last night ... he fetched the red mouse (seen above), shook it, chased it on and off the bed, and eventually fetched another (yellow) mouse from a different part of the room, and repeated the performance.
Was he trying to tell me something? Surely. This morning, he disappeared down to my study, pre-breakfast. I was trying to leave by 6.30, a long and painful dental appointment awaiting me on the other side of town. Then at 6.29, I found him in the dining room, guarding the sweetest and unharmed (physically, that is - who knows about psychological scars?) little field mouse hiding behind the door. She was captured under a plastic bowl, and escorted to a safe space down the garden.
Grammy is very pleased with himself. Myself, I'm blown away by what he was telling me through that role play with the toy mice.
Incredible Gramsci!!! Top points for mousing skills, using a puppet to communicate with your human, and letting the poor little mouse live another day!
ReplyDeleteDo you know how the mouse got indoors?
ReplyDeleteWell might you ask! I suspect through the door to my study - we had Joe Boone over for dinner on Friday night, and (with the cats tucked away temporarily upstairs) the back door was open for a bit ...she seems to have been a Lone Mouse, since no new interest or activity (thank goodness). Grams is still basking in glory.
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