Ricky and the Mouse

 When Ricky came to live with us in Laramie, he was skinny, had a broken tail tip, a BB under his skin, a hernia from where he'd been kicked, and was afraid of Karen and me. And, his front claws had been removed. He was a physical mess, but after a few years he's filled out, been repaired - no claw reconstruction - and has grown emotionally. He's the only cat who sleeps on my lap and loves making up to strangers. And, he's become a pretty good mouser. Yesterday I saw him walking across our driveway to the front yard with a mouse in his mouth. I went over to look, as did three others of

our cats. The mouse was still alive - actually seemed to be pretty good shape; Ricky has the soft mouth of a Labrador retriever - but was surrounded by three cats. Ricky just lay on the grass with the mouse off to the left of his right paw; Tigger, a skinny tabby sat behind the mouse; Pete, a long-haired black cat sat a few feet away; and Blue, our old part-Siamese kept circling the whole group.

So, I decided to rescue the mouse. This was not an Androcles and the lion moment. When the mouse's head was turned away from me, I reached down for it and, with remarkable speed, it turned and bit me. I flung the mouse off and went into the house to clean

the wound (antiseptic soap, antiseptic gel, antibiotic                                                                   ointment) and check mouse bites on the Internet; not a problem as long as it's kept clean. 

And, as I looked out the window there was only one cat on the lawn under the trees. Blue. And he was chewing. Good for him.