in a house with a mouse

I would not, could not, in a house. I would not, could not, with a mouse. I do not like to watch things die. I do not like it, I can't lie.

Yet when my kitties found the mouse, running, hiding, in my house, did I take the cats away? Did I tell them not to play? Or did I grab my own flash light, to help them find the mouse at night?

Lucky for him, we were all too slow. The little mouse was on the go. Hiding somewhere amongst my shoes. Singing, quietly, his little mouse blues.

And so I sit here in my house, that I must share with a mouse. I wonder how he'll ever leave. Will he live or will he bleed? If OC finds him, I'll never know, unless he leaves me a bit of toe. If Blackie finds him, he'll soon tire. He doesn't like his toys once they expire.

If only the mouse had been a bird. Then his fear I would have heard. He'd be bigger, slower, and easier to trap. I could have freed him and continued my nap. Alas, the mouse is every bit a rodent. Here in a flash, gone in a moment.

I'm rooting for you, little guy. I'm sure you also wish you could fly. Though we may never meet again, I'd like you to know I am your friend. I understand you'll have to go, but please don't pooh in my Danskos.