6:00 AM:

DH: Bye. My plane leaves later today. I'll see you on Thursday.
Me: Bye Mister. I love you. Kiss the boys before you go.

6:15 AM:
DH enters room with something in his gloved hand.

DH: I found a baby mouse in the garage. Do you want it or should I put it in the bushes?
*pause*
Me: I don't really need this now. Put it outside.

Dh gets halfway down the stairs. I jump out of bed. I can't do it. I can't let that baby be killed by a snake (which is, of course, the only other option it has by being freed in the 'wild' at this age). Dh was also feeling a little soft hearted: "He's just all curled up and warm in my glove."

Why this is stupid

• Wild animal=fleas, rabies, plague, etc.
• The whole sewing room project was started now because of mouse droppings in DH's camping gear.
• I have a cat.

Why I'm doing it anyway

• History: I have raised a baby mouse and a baby chipmunk before. I also had another mouse (probably a vole) that didn't survive (I was eight).
• It's just a baby.

We live by catch and release here. Spiders, bugs, any other creatures are shuffled outside when discovered. Except Mosquitos, the bloodsucking vampire larvae that they are. I see a mosquito and compassion leaves me. This mouse, should s/he make it, will be released when s/he is able to eat seeds and leaves. The last time I did this, it took less than a week for the mouse to grow that independent.

My sons are, of course, infatuated.

As is my cat.