“What the hell have you brought in this time Digby?” He peered down at the tiny creature with its long pointed face, black boot-button eyes, grey velvety coat and short, whip-like tail.
“That’s not a mouse, what on earth is it?”
Wasting no time, Daniel collected his rodent rescue kit from the under-stairs cupboard. The diminutive vole, or whatever it was, looked up as he dropped a beer glass over it and slipped a piece of card underneath. As he inverted the assemblage the little animal fell into the bottom of the glass, squeaking angrily. Daniel carried it carefully outside whilst Digby and Hank searched all the nooks and corners of their dining room for their now missing lunch. Daniel walked some way down the lane and stopped at an overgrown patch of waste ground. He tipped out the ungrateful animal. It paused and glared at him for a moment, then scuttled into the undergrowth. It did not seem to appreciate having been rescued at no slight inconvenience to its saviour. Daniel’s tea would be tepid by the time he got back.
“Off you go, little feller. This should give you a head start. And be a bit more careful in future.”