Two days ago Eduardo Dominic Wouk-Wouk (large, beefy, black and white beast who, like me, thinks he is a novelist) brought in a small mouse. He's a sweetheart, and plays with them rather than having them for supper. Nonetheless big cat playing with small mouse can result in mouse having coronary, so I pull him away, at which the mouse looks at me, winks (might be my over-active imagination), then rushes for the skirting board at high speed.
I try, oh lord I try, but no amount of cheese (do mice actually eat cheese, I wonder) will bring the cute wee beasty out. I go to bed, leaving two of the four cats circling like sharks.
Yesterday - no sign of the mouse. Very sad. Almost went to church.
This morning, having got over the trauma, I'm strolling to the kitchen for a second cup of coffee when lo and behold there's the mouse looking up at me. In mouse terms I'm big and frightening so mouse rushes behind freezer. Nonchalant cats lurk, pretending disinterest, licking chops and purring.
After hefty freezer moving manoeuvres, fending off cats with nimble foot parries I managed to catch the mouse, and release him/her in the long grass by the caravan.