Paw Tracks on the Heart
by
Owlcroft

Every three or four months, Mr. Beetleman would 'take care of' the bugs in the Deetz basement. And, since he was a generous (actually hungry) guy, he'd do the garage as well for free. But that day, after just beginning to go through the garage, Beetlejuice showed up in Lydia's room with something held carefully in his hand.

"It's a baby mouse," he said. "I scanned for other mice, but there weren't any so this one was abandoned." He inspected the miniscule creature in his hand. "The mother probably moved them all but missed this one."

"Oh, the poor thing." Lydia inspected the pink hairless creature closely. "I'll call the vet and see if we can take it in to him."

She was gone several minutes, during which Beetlejuice became bored and tired of holding his hand cupped around the infant mouse, but he stayed as still as a statue to be sure he didn't disturb or frighten it. Lydia came back looking depressed but resolute, carrying a heating pad, a small paintbrush, and a woven basket lined with cotton fluffs. "Mother's gone to the store to get some PediaLyte and baby formula." She sighed, then added, "The vet won't take it. He says it's hopeless and we should just let it die. BJ," she looked him right in the eye, "I can't do that. So I'm going to try to take care of it until it's old enough to be released in the woods."

She set the heating pad on her desk chair and plugged it in, setting it to low. Then she arranged the basket on the pad and fluffed up the cotton. "If there was a wildlife center anywhere near here, I'd take it in. But there isn't, so it's going to be up to me to take care of it. The first thing is, we have to keep it warm and feed it. Feed it every three or so hours, in fact." She extended her hand for the mouse and Beetlejuice shook his head.

"I got it," he said and placed the infant in the nest Lydia had prepared. "But every three hours? Babes, when will you sleep?"

"I'll feed it – him," she said examining the baby, "at eight and then at eleven tonight, then set my clock to two and then five and feed him once more at eight before I go to school. BJ, I know it's a lot to ask, but could you feed him at noon so I don't have to come home? And I'll be sure to be back by three for the next feeding."

"Sure. If you show me how. But you know I'm not good with stuff like that; taking care of babies and all."

She smiled at him gratefully. "Thank you, Beej. I know you can do this. Once we get that PediaLyte and formula, I'll show you what the vet said to do. You'll find the Q-tip part interesting, I know."

He did. The cotton swab was used like a mother mouse's tongue, to stimulate the baby's digestive system to the point of excretion. Beetlejuice was fascinated that it worked and then realized that Lydia might think his absorption in the process was crude so he abruptly stopped exclaiming over it, which made her laugh.

Everything worked perfectly the first night and the next day. Albert ("He just looks like an Albert," said Lydia) seemed to be comfortable and greedily sucked at the brush dipped in PediaLyte when it was offered. That night, however, at two, Lydia dragged herself out of bed to find Beetlejuice waiting for her in the mirror.

"I've got this one, Lyds. And the one at five. Go back to bed; you need your sleep."

When Lydia woke at eight, a bleary Beetlejuice handed her the brush and immediately crawled under her bed, whence snores came in just under a minute. She fed Albert, set her alarm for noon and left for school, confident that things were under control.

She got back just in time for the three o'clock feeding and sent Beetlejuice home for a nap.

At eight o'clock he appeared in the mirror, looking a bit more rested than he had that afternoon. "Let me through, babes. Maybe we can watch a movie?"

She agreed and they spent a restful three hours watching 'Invasion of the Damsonflies!' interrupted only once by what Beetlejuice referred to as Albert's din-din.

The tiny mouse was developing a coat of fur, gray except for his little white tummy. "We'll prove them wrong, won't we, Albert?" Lydia cleaned the brush while Beetlejuice wielded the swab this time. "He's actually starting to look like a mouse, isn't he?"

Beetlejuice agreed and they finished the movie just before eleven. Lydia yawned and turned off her television. "In another couple of weeks, we can think about taking Albert out to the woods. I'll leave some crumbs out for him every day." She stretched and yawned again, reaching for her alarm clock to set it for midnight. "I can't tell you how much I appreciate your help, BJ. I couldn't do this without you."

He sighed in resignation. "Set it for yourself for eight. I'll stick around and feed him tonight. The things I do for you," he grumbled. "At least tomorrow's Saturday so you can take him all day. And I'll catch up on my sleep then." He sighed again. "The movie tonight was the first fun we've had in three days, Lyds."

She smiled at him affectionately. "I guess that's what it like being parents," and grinned at his appalled expression. "Thank you, Beej." She gave him a quick hug then sent him off to find himself something to eat while she prepared for bed.

When he got back, she was already sound asleep and it was nearly time for Albert's late-night snack.

Beetlejuice sat and looked at the small creature, thinking of how much Lydia cared about it. Then, on the stroke of midnight, he fed the mouse, and licked a swab and used it carefully. "Good boy. That's my little Bert," he murmured. Then, "What am I saying?"

ooooo

Even in his sleep, Beetlejuice heard Lydia Call and responded immediately, displaying his new pink bedbug-patterned pajamas. "What's wrong?" he mumbled muzzily. "I left everything where it should be."

"Oh, Beej," she said tearfully, "Albert died."

"What?" he said, then realized what she'd told him. "No. He was fine at five." He floated over to the nest and saw a tiny, stiff little mouse, curled on its side. "Oh," he said blankly. Then, "Poor little guy," he muttered and held out his arms to Lydia.

They held each other and mourned silently for a while, then Beetlejuice whispered, "You know they said it probably wouldn't work. We did everything we could, babes."

"I know." She sniffed and shook her head sadly. "But I did hope . . . Poor Albert. Maybe there was something else –"

"No, there wasn't. You took the best care of him anybody could." He looked down at her and then gently rested his chin on her head and readjusted his grip triflingly to hold her closer. "We both did our best. You know that."

She nodded against his chest. "We did. We really did. But it still hurts. Poor little thing."

"I know." He sighed sorrowfully. "I know."

They stood together for a long time – each comforting; both comforted.

A/N: If you ever find a baby mouse, please Google for help.