I walked over to see what was going on, and both Julia and Chloë, the neighbourhood cat, were staring intently at the leaves on the lawn between our house and the neighbour's. "It's under that leaf. Do you see it?" I looked where Julia was pointing, and Chloë began to slink forward in pounce mode. Images of dead mouse presents left on my front sidewalk impelled me to pounce first, and I grabbed the little critter, but it jumped out of my garden gloves, unseen by the cat. So I pounced again. This time, it squeezed between my thumbs, ran up my sweater's forearm and took a flying leap back into the leaves as Chloë did her best to figure out what was going on. But I had seen where the mouse had hidden, and the third time, I was lucky. I caught the tiny little thing in my gloves and held it until Julia found a five gallon pail in the back yard, and we put our little furry friend into it, away from the cat. Chloë, for her part, was still playing the waiting game called cat and mouse, sniffing around and pouncing on leaves, trying to determine where the mouse had gone.
I'm not a huge mouse fan. I'll just say I'd rather see one scamper away than find one murdered on my front steps. I'm more squeamish that way. Given the choice between cleaning up dead mice and catching lives ones (with garden gloves) I'll take door number two any day.
So that's what happened. We left Chloë thinking she was involved in an intense game of cat and mouse, and we carried the pail into the area park across the street, to set the mouse free under a spruce tree.
from the one who leaves you as a dead present for my kids!