Frequently I have caught mice in the house. Some come in on their own, I think, but some the cats bring in. When I see the little creatures I catch them and put them out in a safe place. I do not begrudge them being in the house; I fear for their safety, what with the cats.

Mice are easier to catch by hand than you would think, you just grab them by their tails. I guess they are frightened for a few minutes, but then they are released and realize I meant them no harm.

Thursday Little Brother came in the cat door with a mouse in his mouth. Although I feared it was already dead I chased him into the bedroom and he dropped it. It wasn't dead and it ran under the bed. I chased out Brother and got a flashlight and looked under all the furniture, but I couldn't find him. I pulled back the bed covers, hoping he had climbed up under the bedspread from the floor (which Brother often does, too) but he wasn't there, either.

I had left open my closet door which is full of many things and since it was late I didn't move all those things to find him. I just put out food for him so he wouldn't have to risk searching in the house.

I am now working a job about an hour's drive away, so some nights I spend with my daughter who lives in the town where I am working. The next morning I left for work and spent the night, leaving food for the mouse.

When I came home the little mouse was dead in the living room, obviously by one of the cats. All the food was gone from the closet, so I guess he had come out to find more. It was hard to judge how much a mouse would eat in 36 hours. Maybe, like birds, they have to eat four times their body weight every day. Maybe, if I had left more food, the little creature would still be alive.

I am sad I could not save him and that I failed him. I seldom fail. Think of the little mouse who died last night, and all the creatures that die, who want to live just as much as me, or you.