Oh. It’s HER. She found mouse, dammit.
When mouse first arrived, it was pretty – red felt body, little green ears, dark yarn for a tail. Catnipped, of course.
A year down the road, it’s been rubbed, body-checked, drooled on, stuffed under the oven, and now has no resemblance to a mouse, cute or not. And we can’t throw it out. She finds it. She wanders with it in her mouth, yowling, late at night.