He just casually strolled along, in no rush. I could tell he knew I was watching his lil butt twitch, agape and s.s.s.s.tuttering as I tried to draw my friend's attention to him. "Quick," I finally spit, "turn around! Look behind you!" I jostled chairs outta my way, bumped into memom, and then he was gone. No one had seen his saucey smirk as he sauntered outta sight, taking his cute lil furry mouse butt with him. No one, but me.
I've been running a bed and breakfast lodge for extended friends and families of entire societies of mice who've settled in with me and the furrbees for the winter. This particular one probably is bragging to his buddies how he strutted past not one, but THREE aghast females. Yeah, he'll probably be scoring free drinks for weeks on that one.
There's a slightly larger emboldened free-ranger that's been scampering about across my shoes, up over the body-sack project I have ongoing (hi, nutella!!), past the ballarina bear (thanks, sweet anne!), sniffing the candle (thanks, memom!), before dodging past my box of pencils and things (waving frantically at bonny). Ranger Rick has nothing on this dude! I don't know why I lunge for the mice; it's not like I'm gonna scoop one up in my cupped hands and set him free outside. He'd just run around to the special entrance around back, and let himself in; pissed that I made him go outta his way.
And I don'wanna go pissin' off the mice.