Digging into the draft of the next novel I plan to prepare for submission, I find myself being pulled deeply into the potentials of one small, seemingly insignificant catalyst and object of symbolism.  It’s a mouse…well, mice.  

These aren’t dancing mice, talking mice, or any kind of out-of-the-ordinary rodents.  These are your standard variety – small, gray, bewhiskered, and turd-dropping — the kind cats love to bite.

So how can the presence of a mouse so intrigue me?  I suppose because you just never know what they will do next that’s going to create havoc when a surprised human reacts to their surreptitious or panicked movements.