Last night as I sat down on the couch I realised there was someone joining me in the loungeroom. A little grey mouse ran accross the floor, towards me, and down through the hole in the floor. Gotta love this renovators delight. I noticed that the mouse seemed large.... either a baby rat, or a very big mouse. Hmmmmm.
As we all buzz around in the morning, I realise Zenny, our cat, has something. Ergh, I hope it isn't a bird. The kids go out to look and we realise he has a mouse. Not just any mouse, but my little friend the very large mouse or small baby rat that I had seen the night before.
The immediate decision was to simply leave him to it and go inside. I figured he is a cat, it's what cats do. Apart from that mice are germy and filthy and I hate them in my house. But for some reason, this one was kind of cute.
As we turned to head inside, I saw my ivy head for the cat with a vengeance. she grabbed him and commanded him to let go of the wee creature. he hung on for dear life. The battle of wills began, and i too began to feel for my wee one and admire her courage and compassion for the mouse. So I decided to join her and help her try to free the mouse, as the tears flowed freely down her face. She punded poor Zenny on the head! "Let go if it!" She bellowed. Bless her. Zenny is her pride and joy and she loves him so dearly. He has never scratched or bitten her in her life, and she has never hurt him. They are bonded in love, but there they were, at war.
We got the creature free and it ran for its life. Ivy grabbed Zen as I yelled out to take him inside. The poor creature was disoriented, but able to run. Though running up the slide was not a particularly good use of energy, so I steered him towards the mess of tomatoe bushes. Ivy screamed, Zenny bolted. she had not made it to the door when he tried to bite her and wriggled free from her sleeper hold. Poor mousey was in his jaws again in a few seconds. This time the grip looked solid, and I feared he was already dead.
I realised here that it was the only fair thing to do, to show compassion to this creature, and try to save him from such a terrible fate. That abandoning him to be eaten alive was not right, and was surely not right for Ivy. She needed to help him.
I pried Zenny's jaws loose, with three wide eyed onlookers, with a little stick. Out dropped mousey, dead, eyes open. Ivy was red with sadness. My little Maurice was concerned that the mouse needed to find his mummy. "Where's his mummy?" he kept asking.
We shooed Zenny away. He seemed unconcerned with consuming his catch and went back to sunbathing.
The little mouse was given a fitting burial under the lemon tree. We placed him in gently and Ivy covered him. "He might find his mummy in there" said Maurice. Ivy needed lots of cuddles and some tea and honey toast to cheer her up. She forgave Zenny for his acts, but not before she said she wanted to trade him in for a guinea pig.
Life and death, little ones who need their mummies and a girl with a commpassionate heart.... and all before breakfast.
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