One Dead Mouse Day

On the cold floor of the studio lay a not yet decomposed mouse which I grabbed by its tail along with a night light which was the impetus for my visit. How fortuitous to find it.
Mojo and Mr.Lee and I have just returned from the river; I have taken to kicking the old unbound soccer ball half way down - the dogs dislike my play as I have accidentally bounced into their flanks. Mojo now walks behind me, while Mr. Lee runs far ahead. The rain has not swollen the river or creek; but the chair was too wet for a good sit. I wrote something for Mojo walking back:

Sniff me a story, Mojo

standing rigid, nose twitching at the other shore -

your depth of field humbles my sight.