Mouse came to us around many months ago as a skinny, hungry young tom, really still last season’s kitten bolting at the slightest movement and trusting absolutely no one. Little by little, with regular meals, patience, and quiet consistency, he changed from a starving stray into a healthy, well-fed boy who now waits for his meals in our sunroom and even would walk into the unset trap without a second thought.
He was never quite tame enough to simply be picked up and placed into a carrier, but he reached small milestones that meant everything, allowing a gentle touch, a brief pat, and staying close instead of fleeing. For a cat like Mouse, those tiny moments are huge victories.
Setting the trap for real felt awful, especially with his very vocal opinion about my betrayal, but getting him desexed is for his own good and part of giving him a safer, healthier future. Mouse and his brother Timtim are closely bonded, almost inseparable. His story is continually unfolding...Read on....
Mouse - Another Milestone
30 May 2026
Today Mouse did something really special.
He’s been back to his playful, cheeky self lately—bouncing around, rolling, flopping over, and stretching out his paws like he’s inviting attention… then stopping just short of letting me touch him. A complete tease, in the sweetest way.
But today, he surprised me.
For the first time since his release, disappearance and subsequent return, Mouse offered me his tummy and allowed me to gently pet him again. It was such a quiet, unexpected moment, but one that meant so much. It was brief, he bounced back upright pretty quickly, but he also scrubbed around me and allowed me to pet him along his face and chin....but not allowing me to touch him on his back yet.....but it was a very special moment for me.
He’s also starting to look more and more settled in himself, putting on weight, softening in appearance, and beginning to resemble an “owned” cat in every way. The only reminder of his TNR background is the small tipped ear on the left side.
It feels like something has shifted again in him today. A little opening, a little trust returning… and I feel incredibly lucky to have been there for it.
Mouse..Success!
29 May 2026
Mouse has been such a joy to watch these past few days. He seems so happy and settled, back to his playful, cheeky self.
These days, he’s practically part of the outdoor furniture, making himself completely at home. He bounces about, rolls and flops dramatically, and stretches out with his paws as though inviting interaction… only to stop just short of letting me touch him. He’s such a tease.
He seems full of confidence and is becoming wonderfully predictable in his routine, which is such a lovely thing to see. That playful, carefree behaviour feels like a beautiful sign that he feels safe here.
He now happily comes right into our sun porch for food, something that once would have seemed impossible. Seeing him so relaxed and content, behaving so naturally and playfully, has been incredibly rewarding.
Every little moment feels like another quiet step forward, and it’s such a privilege to watch his trust continue to grow in his own time.
Mouse Update
28 May 2026
Mouse has officially taken up residence as though he’s always belonged there .
He arrives exactly when the day calls for him: breakfast appears, and so does Mouse, as if summoned by some invisible bell only he can hear. Lunch time? There he is again, appearing with quiet certainty. Dinner is never eaten alone either , Mouse makes sure of that too. It’s routine. It’s belonging.
But it’s the in-between moments that tell the real story.
Because now, Mouse doesn’t just exist in the space, he plays in it.
There are ambushes. Carefully planned, apparently. A flicker of movement behind a corner, a sudden burst of courage, and out he launches: tail held high like a flag of confidence, body bouncing sideways in exaggerated stealth, then a rapid retreat as if nothing at all just happened. Except he does it again. And again. As if he’s testing the idea that the world is safe enough to be silly in.
What once might have been hesitation has turned into performance , not fear, but theatre. A little hunter practicing the art of play, choosing mischief over caution, and always circling back for the next meal like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
Somewhere along the way, Mouse stopped just surviving there.
Now he’s part of the family, just with more attitude, better timing… and a very dramatic ambush routine.
14th May 2026
Three Days of Silence
After Mouse slipped out of the recovery crate and back into his world, I didn’t write anything more at the time because there was nothing certain to say. He simply disappeared. For three long days there was no sign of him at all. It was already hard enough, because his brother Tim had gone missing the very same day Mouse was caught — meant to be heading toward surgery, and never seen since — so Mouse’s absence landed in a space that already felt unsettled and raw. The quiet that followed wasn’t empty, but suspended, as if something important was holding its breath just out of sight. I told myself this is what release is meant to look like: a cat returning to the life that was always his, unseen again on his own terms. But knowing that didn’t stop the wondering, or the way I found myself listening harder than usual to every small sound outside. Then today, he was back — ravenous, skittish, and clearly shaken — as if those days had pulled him further back into fear rather than forward into ease. And still, I can’t help but hold a small, fragile hope that his return might somehow be an omen that Tim will find his way back too.
11th May 2026
Mouse's Release
Today Mouse was released back into his world. After everything he’s been through, he didn’t rush or panic—just paused briefly, taking in his surroundings, before slipping back into the rhythm of the place he knows.
Since then, I’ve noticed him lingering around the property rather than disappearing straight away, which feels like a quiet reassurance that he’s settling in and staying close for now. A small, steady return for Mouse, on his own terms.
9th May 2026
Almost Time for Mouse to Return to the Outside World
There’s a strange mix of emotions that comes with knowing Mouse’s return to his outside world is getting close now. Part of me feels hopeful, because I know this is what the whole journey has been leading toward… and part of me feels that quiet trepidation that comes when you’ve grown attached to a little soul who finally learned to feel safe. For now, we wait for a break in the bad weather, a calm window to open the crate door and trust that Mouse will carry a little piece of this care and comfort with him when he steps back into the world he knows.......
Before surgery, Mouse was always just out of reach. Close enough to recognise me, close enough to feed, but still very much a cat who kept his distance. Trust had been building slowly, in small steps, but it was never complete.
Then came the trap.
That moment changed everything in an instant. Panic, confusion, noise and then stillness. From there, it became recovery and waiting.
The first day after surgery, he wasn’t himself. He called out when he saw me, unsure and unsettled. His appetite was low. He picked at food rather than eating properly, and mostly just sat watching, trying to make sense of what had happened.
But he never shut me out.
When I spent time with him, he would still allow touch. And then something unexpected started to happen.
He would lean into it. Purr. Roll over. Close his eyes and settle in my presence in a way I hadn’t seen before. And after those moments, he would eat calmly, once he felt safe again.
That pattern continued. Each visit became the same sequence: initial uncertainty, then trust, then relaxation, then food.
Now, a few days later, it’s even clearer. He actively seeks the attention. He leans into scratches, purrs deeply, and even reaches out when I start to leave. It’s smooth, quiet, and consistent like he’s decided that in this small space, I’m the thing that makes sense.
But I know this is a moment in time.
Soon he’ll go back outside. Back to normal life, normal space, normal independence. I don’t expect this level of constant closeness to continue in the same way.
But something has shifted.
Because underneath everything—the trap, the recovery, the uncertainty—he still chose to trust me.
