The Desperate House Mouse

In the early hours of the evening I rose from the discomfort of my broke down bed and stumbled into the living room for a cup of stale coffee. As I reached the coffee maker I saw a little gray figure under my kitchen chair sitting warm and comfy as if he belonged here. It looked up at me. I froze. Across his little mousy face I saw the sneer of, “I don’t run.” Really I thought? Well, wait here. I’m going to get the cat. I’ll be back.

The Stand Off: I realized if I moved he’d run and Bella wouldn’t be able to torture the creature to death so I began whispering for her to come to me. The little mouse sat perfectly still, it never moved which furthered my resolve that his life must end in a horrific show of pain and despair. I kept calling Bella but Bella is an untrusting cat who surely heard an ulterior motive in my tone. I wasn’t calling her for loving or a saucer of milk nor was I calling her simply because she’s my good girl. Nope, there was “something” about my voice which wasn’t to be trusted. Realizing Bella wasn’t an option I reached for the closest thing to me which was my reading shawl. Some people have a smoking coat or scarf but I have a shawl wrapped around my shoulders as I sit in the lazy boy re-reading paragraphs in Chapter One of a book I started six weeks ago.

The Death Trap: Despite the fact that it’s my favorite shawl I figured I’d still toss it on top of the mouse, capture it then give it to Bella as an example to all mice not to come in my house and act like they belong here. As I plotted his long, drawn out death I was reminded of PETA’s claim that all living things deserve a pain-free existence. I quickly quashed their annoying voice and threw the shawl towards said intruder. The shawl opened up then slowly floated through the air surely taking three minutes to fall just to the side of the mouse. At that point I realized the look on his face wasn’t “I don’t run” but instead, “I can’t run. Bella already got to me.” No wonder she didn’t come when I called her. She already knew the mouse was under the chair disabled and half ways dead. To add more misery I disappointed Mr. Mouse by failing to end his pain with my light weight trap. At this point I felt a slight pang of pity which was replaced by a towel tossed on top of his body then used to fling him out the front door. By the time he hit the ground his heart had given out. He didn’t run, he just fell over and never moved again.

SSDD: I sipped my coffee in mismatched pajamas satisfied that the day would drag on with its regular mishaps, blunders and near misses.

The Desperate House Mouse – Thursday, November 19, 2009 – 4:15PM EST