Little Mouse II

a fuzzy photo of our furry friend taken through the screen on his little home. We made him a sleeping fort with one of my socks, but he just like to pee on top of it.
Sydney all buckled in to the baby backpack for a hike on Thursday. This is the look of disdain she will most likely give me for the entirety of her 13th year.

An update on our mouse. As my mother-in-law was leaving after lunch on Friday, she said "um, there's your mouse" in a tone hinting at our insanity at adopting a wild rodent. And there he was! He was covered in fuzz, suggesting he had spent the day under the arm chair at the end of the sun porch--a spot I do not clean under because I get scared of what I might find.

I was so excited, yet afraid since little mouse looked worse for wear. He was kind of staggering. So, I went and got the syringe and fed him some warm milk and he perked right up. Sydney cheered him on, yelling "hi!" over the edge of the box. (Note: We did not touch him, but scooped him up gently with two envelopes.)

He seemed to be doing fine and we were making plans for when to release him back into the wild. But, when I went to check on him Saturday afternoon, he looked a lot like his last struggling brother had looked outside. It was awful. I tried to feed him some milk, but it just made him look like he was foaming at the mouth. So, I sadly went inside, knowing that was probably the last of our little buddy.

Nick buried (or perhaps tossed) him somewhere in the yard while I made dinner. Sydney kept going to the slider and saying "please" and "mout." We told her that her mouse had to go bye bye and she seemed okay with that. When we got home from running errands yesterday and Sydney was terribly tired, she started asking for "mout" again, but at this point I think she's forgotten him or said goodbye.

I don't know that we'll try to save any more little rodents. It's too sad.