So, there was Muffin, with a mouse in her paws. She must have pounced only that very moment because the mouse was clearly still alive and well. I must admit, I paused. I was unsure how best to proceed. My instinct was to rush Goldie inside and try to forget all about Muffin and her mouse. We are sleeping in the basement at my parents and I'm not sure but what it is Muffin keeping us free from little mousy visitors. Plus, as any of you who might have read my chicken post of long ago know, I have had bad luck when intervening in the natural course of things.
My pause didn't last long though because Goldie's calm voice began to take on a bit more of an edge as she questioned, "Mom, why aren't you making him let it go?" I sighed, partly for poor Muffin who was only doing what cats do, then I shewed her away. The mouse ran happily towards the house (having so narrowly escaped certain doom) likely to show up in my bedroom ere long. I will say however, that I couldn't help but, for a minute, think of Lucifer (the cat) and the little mice of Cinderella, and the thought of that little mouse scampering off to sew buttons and snip thread as he makes me a beautiful dress is a cheery enough one to help me not regret my interference too much.
P.S. The two nice mice pictured here were compliments of: #1 -- yours truly, and #2 -- Abraham