As she stood in her basement, Nathan's mother expression showed distaste as she stared at the trapped little mouse in the wire cage positioned on the lower shelf.
Although she had no intention of sharing her home with a filthy rodent, she wasn't a blood-thirsty woman, hence her use of the humane live traps she had purchased at the door. As she reached for the handle atop the cage-trap, she grimaced at the shrill sound of the trapped mouse's squeaks.
"Just consider yourself lucky," she said aloud.
When she emerged from the basement, her husband greeted her. "I see you got your mouse," he said.
"Yeah, these traps never fail," she said. "They were a great investment."
Her husband smiled. "I don't know. I sort of prefer the old-fashioned traps. Sure, they're messy, but they got the job done with little hassle."
"You know how I feel about cruelty to living creatures," she countered.
"I know," he said, kissing her cheek.
"So," she smiled at him, "would you mind taking it to that field just down the road and letting it go?"
"Why not just let it loose out back?"
She sighed. "I've told you that they just find their way back if you do that."
Her husband looked into the cage. "I'm not sure this guy's smart enough to find his way back," he said. "Looks sort of dumb to me, and it did just get caught in a trap."
"Please, dear. Besides, it's Christmas."
He laughed. "And that expensive shopping spree wasn't enough?"
"I catch them, and you re-locate them. That's the arrangement."
Her husband picked up the cage. "Sure," he said. "I'll make sure I find it a good home."
The tiny mouse continued to emit high-pitched squeaks as if in protest of its confinement, but the shrill objection brought no responses from the huge man as he carried the cage from the house to his car parked in the garage.
Five minutes later, standing at the edge of the overgrown field in the midst of the suburban community, he opened the cage and dumped the little white rodent onto the ground at his feet.
"Merry Christmas," he said sarcastically before he turned and walked back to the car leaving behind the mouse.
The little white creature scurried to a stand of dry weeds. Its white fur was equivalent to having a bull's-eye drawn on its back. It was sure to stand out to every predatory carnivore in the vicinity. It would be lucky to last the remainder of the Christmas day. It would be a miracle if it made it to the new year.
With a twitch of its whiskers, the mouse plunged deeper into the weeds.