The mouse

On Saturday, I had to suddenly turn off my lawn mower to avoid running over a tiny mouse near the garage.

We made eye contact. (I think.) Perched like a butterball, he was decidedly not vermin-like.

I ran inside to get my camera and found him curled up on the lawn in the same spot. He was shy about photos, though, and finally disappeared into a hole near the fence.

Yesterday I was telling my neighbor Jody about the sighting when we saw something in the corner of her yard: Her cat had flipped a mouse (the mouse?) onto its back. Jody distracted her cat while the mouse wandered into the bushes.

A few minutes later, I opened the back gate to walk Papa. And there was a mouse (the mouse?). He was just standing in the middle of the walkway. Not trying to run or hide.

Jody came over, and we talked about whether he was the mouse. We agreed he was cute, and she ushered him out of the walkway, into a mass of overgrown chives.

I know that there is rarely one mouse, but I like to think I didn’t spot three in two days.

What would you have done? And no, I won't be like Luke and Linda's friend who made special cracker pizzas for his mouse.