Page 57 of A Cozy Christmas Blizzard
“It’s an African brown-tailed mouse,” he said, sounding knowledgeable. “I saw a documentary on them.”
“African mice are here in the States?” She wondered if Animal Control knew about this.
He nodded again. “So I gather.”
“What do we do now?” Because Wynn seemed to know more about this sort of thing, she looked to him for the answer.
“Kill it,” he said without a qualm.
Zero and Zorro obviously agreed, because they both growled and clawed at the carpet, asking for the opportunity to do it themselves.
“No way!” K.O. objected. She couldn’t allow him to kill it. The terriers, either. Although mice terrified her, K.O. couldn’t bear to hurt any of God’s creatures. “All I want you to do is get that brown-tailed mouse out of here.” As soon as Zelda returned, K.O. planned to suggest she call a pest control company to inspect the entire house. Although, if there were other mice around, she didn’t want to know it... .
“All right,” Wynn muttered. “I’ll take it outside and release it.”
He got a newspaper and knelt down next to the dogs. Carefully, inch by inch, he slid the paper beneath the upended basket. When he’d finished that, he stood and carried the whole thing to the front door. Zero and Zorro followed, leaping up on their hind legs and barking wildly.
K.O. hurried to open first the door and then the screen. The cold air felt good against her heated face.
Wynn stepped onto the porch while K.O. held back thedogs by closing the screen door. They both objected strenuously and braced their front paws against the door, watching Wynn’s every movement.
K.O. turned her back as Wynn released the African brown-tailed mouse into the great unknown. She wished the critter a pleasant life outside.
“Is it gone?” she asked when Wynn came back into the house, careful to keep Zero and Zorro from escaping and racing after the varmint.
“It’s gone, and I didn’t even need to touch it,” he assured her. He closed the door.
K.O. smiled up at him. “My hero,” she whispered.
Wynn playfully flexed his muscles. “Anything else I can do for you, my fair damsel?”
Looping her arms around his neck, K.O. backed him up against the front door and rewarded him with a warm, moist kiss. Wynn wrapped his arms about her waist and half lifted her from the carpet.
“Youaremy hero,” she whispered between kisses. “You saved me from that killer mouse.”
“The African brown-tailed killer rat.”
“It was arat?”
“A small one,” he murmured, and kissed her again before she could ask more questions.
“A baby rat?” That meant there must be parents around and possibly siblings, perhaps any number of other little rats. “What makes you think it was a rat?” she demanded, fast losing interest in kissing.
“He was fat. But perhaps he was just a fat mouse.”
“Ah...”
“You’re still grateful?”
“Very grateful, but—”
He kissed her again, then abruptly broke off the kiss. His eyes seemed to focus on something across the room.
K.O. tensed, afraid he’d seen another mouse. Or rat. Or rodent of some description.
It took genuine courage to glance over her shoulder, but she did it anyway. Fortunately she didn’t see anything—other than an overturned Christmas tree, scattered furniture and general chaos brought about by the Great Brown-Tailed Mouse Hunt.
“The fishbowl has blue water,” he said.
