Big Dan and Little Ann

Yesterday at chez DearReader there was some excitement: I heard a squeaking noise, and a minute later my (lazy, stupid, male) cat ran by chasing a mouse. Because I'm a stereotype, apparently, I ran out of the room and jumped up on the bed and sat there until the SO came home, 35 minutes later. By then, the dumb boy-cat had the mouse treed under the baker's tray in the corner of the dining room. Human interference in the form of the SO (I was still on the bed, natch) just made things worse. The mouse ran through pretty much every room in the place, without going to a bolthole, which makes me pretty sure it came in the front door and doesn't live with us.
After an epic cat-and-mouse hunt, the poor mouse was finally run to ground - both my cats had it in their mouths for a bit, but miraculously it didn't get killed. The SO took it out to a nearby field.
So, I've been calling the cats "Big Dan" and "Little Ann" - all the more appropriate because the girl-cat is small and tidy, like Little Ann.
On the way out to dinner (of course we had to go out; I was too rattled to cook, or to eat at home) I asked the SO: "do you think the mouse was on a heroic quest?"
(pause)
SO: "like The Tale of Despereaux?"
me: "Well, I suppose. But really, I was thinking of Mrs. Frisby."
And funnily enough, when I told this story to a bookish friend, she said exactly the same thing.