I stayed outside the bathroom for a while, reading a magazine and lying on the floor to see if he'd come to me (since he was rescued from the street, he's still nervous about being approached or about people towering over him), but he would not budge, except to start with fear each time I turned a page. Poor little guy.
So I left him alone for a bit in the hopes that he'd eat the food I left for him and check out his nursery enough to feel more comfortable. He did at least nibble a good bit of cat grass while his foster mama was still here.
And foster mama, who is part of the reason I adopted Mouse, since she was so eminently sane and patient, is interested in "hanging out," because she says she doesn't have enough single girlfriends who aren't barflies (she's a part-time bartender). Thus, I may have gained both a beastie and a friend.
But no photos of the cowering Mousie for a while yet, I think. If he's frightened by the sound of swishing, glossy pages, I hate to think what a clicking, flashing camera would do to him. You'll just have to trust me when I say that he's gorgeous.