He couldn't let the thief leave with the Chronivac if he ever hoped to regain his human life. Yet from his lowly perspective, it was difficult for Nathan to conceive how to stop the burglar from leaving the house with his ill-gotten gain.
He had followed the man through the house, squeaking indignantly, until the man came to the kitchen. Before heading directly out the back door, the man paused to evaluate kitchen items for their potential value. While he debated adding the family food processor to the sack of stolen goods, Nathan positioned himself on the floor in front of the thief's scuffed boots. He reared his mouse form on its hind legs and attempted to yell stop. The resulting squeak was just loud enough to finally gain the attention of the burglar.
"What do we got here?" The guy asked in a loud, arrogant voice.
Nathan realized he had been noticed, but now he was at a loss. What to do now? He had to get the man's attention.
The thief watched as the mouse descended back onto all four legs, raced in circles, squeaking incessantly. The little mouse practically danced a jig for his benefit. The rodent's entertaining antics did give him a surprising idea.
"All right," the man began speaking in more calming tone. "Just hold still a moment."
Nathan paused, trying to comprehend the man's motivation, when suddenly the thief's huge hand shot out and grabbed him, none too gently.
The fist tightened automatically as the little mouse squirmed frantically. He scanned the kitchen and found what he needed. A moment later Nathan found himself deposited inside an empty canister jar as the thief screwed the lid tightly onto the jar. Hoisting his sack again, he dropped the canister and Nathan into the sack before heading out the back door.
Nathan finally gave way to panic. He was being abducted right out of his home. His squeaks became shrill and constant until he finally realized that the one silver lining was that the Chronivac was somewhere in the very same sack. If he could escape this glass prison, he might still regain human form.
The thief had his own ideas, however, about the tiny mouse he had so easily captured. A half hour later he walked into a home in a part of town far from Nathan's upscale community.
"Bobby, you awake?" He yelled as he lowered the sack behind a tattered sofa.
When light poured unexpectedly through the sack, Nathan used his tiny paws to shield his eyes from the sudden bright light. He felt sluggish, a result of the depleted oxygen levels inside the sealed canister. The thief's large hand encircled the canister and pulled it from the sack as a nine-year-old boy showed up.
"I'm awake," the boy said. "What do you want?"
The man held the canister behind his back. "A surprise for you," he said, whisking the canister into view.
A moment later, the canister changed from the thief's huge hands to the comparatively smaller hands of the boy named Bobby. "I knew you've been missing a pet since your hamster died," the man said.
"Dad! Gilbert was a gerbil!" Bobby exclaimed as he turned the canister sideways for a different angle of viewing the tiny white mouse held within its curved glass walls.
"Well, this little guy's a born entertainer," the thief said. He noticed that the mouse was looking far less animated than earlier. "Umm, you better get him out of there. I think he needs fresh air."
"I'll put him in Gilbert's old cage," Bobby said. Before he raced from the room, however, he stopped and added, "Thanks, dad! This is the best!"
Robert looked down as his namesake son and tousled the boy's hair. As a single parent, he tried to do right by Bobby. He had only been 17 when he became a father, and Bobby's mother had split before the boy was even two. He watched Bobby head to his room.
Nathan was beginning to feel distressed from the lack of air by the time the boy unscrewed the lid. The fresh air that wafted into the glass container began to revive the small mouse, but his reactions were too slowed to prevent what was coming.
Bobby tilted the jar and the mouse slid into the glass tank that had been the home of the late, lamented gerbil. Nathan felt his tiny paws land on a scattering of wood shavings. Having made the transfer, Bobby fixed the lid back into place atop the huge tank.
Nathan ran to the front pane, reared on his hind legs and pressed his front paws against the glass. "I'm still a prisoner!" Nathan squeaked. As he scrambled against the smooth glass, he flashed back to his own childhood pet and antics that began to seem a little less amusing. "I've become Binky!" Nathan realized as he recalled his own pet mouse.