The other day I wrote that Charley was digging her way to China, head buried deep in dirt as she pawed frantically at the holes in the pasture. This morning I found out what those holes are when Charley's head popped up with a very cute, very fat and probably pregnant field mouse in her mouth. Fortunately, she was obedient for once and dropped it as soon as I gave the command. Unfortunately, the little gaffer didn't run away. Whether it was too scared or actually injured I'm not sure. There were no blood or teeth marks, but even after I moved it further away and placed it near some ground cover, it just went a few inches and crouched down, shaking.
Charley, of course, was obsessed and in true border collie fashion tried to herd me to the other side of the pasture and then circle back to round up the mouse.
"But, mom, we need to take it home."
"Charley, leave it, we don't need a mouse in the house."
"But mom, Allie could play with it - I know she likes mice!"
"Charley, cats eat mice. Leave it"
And so it went. I kept checking back, but the mouse still hadn't moved. So I brought Charley back home and now I have the horrible task of going back out there and possibly putting an end to this fragile little life. I'm keeping my fingers crossed that it was only frozen in fear, not injured, and has now reached safety.
I guess the good news is that those holes weren't made by rats. The bad news is that it may be field mice, not bears, that put an end to Charley's morning walks in the pasture!
Charley, no more mice or I will have to limit your association with my Toby...