The Most Special Mouse – A Story From the Past
The hazards of having an excellent huntress in the house (a.k.a. Gracie the kitteh kat), has been wearing on our family lately. Gracie seems to really enjoy supplying “her” brood with breakfast, lunch, and even dinner, consisting of whatever may be wandering around under our front porch. She was so gracious to us the other night, that she brought in a young mouse I’m sure she planned on making into some sort of mousy sushi role. C-dub found her bounty, carefully wrapping it up in a paper towel and eventually bringing it to me.
“Mom! Look what Gracie killed this time. A rat!” as he pushed the napkin into my face. Not the best thing to be unprepared for – especially if you’re not a huge fan of the rodent kind.
I carefully unwrapped his bundle and inspected the little body, preparing myself for a bloody pile of gore or even worse, some sort of kangaroo rat prepared to jump on me with rabid fangs. Instead, I found a tiny little brown mouse, still warm and softly breathing. It looked like Gracie had given it quite the spit job as it’s fur was peaked in patches and it’s little beady eyes were tightly shut.
I folded the napkin back up and thought for a second on what to do.
“C-dub, the little fella is still alive. Gracie didn’t kill it.”
I could see the innerworkings of C-dub’s and Taterbug’s minds; suuhhhwwwwhhhhheeeettt!!! A new family pet! Gunny could care less and in fact, ordered his Grandpa to throw the mouse out to the dogs. He tends to not be attracted to cute little fuzzy things.
Quashing the kid’s longing for a new pet, I told him that I didn’t think the little fella would probably make it. Cradling the mouse, I contemplated putting it back outside to let nature take it’s course. It was cold and windy outside and I knew it wouldn’t take long for either the elements or even the rooster, to hunt it down. As I watched it struggle, I couldn’t help but kick into mothering mode and begin to feel sorry. So much so, that I crafted a mouse ICU out of an old treasure box, and placed it on my kitchen counter. Totally unsanitory, but you’re looking at a broad who hatching call ducks on her kitchen table. That’s what Chlorox wipes are for and it’s all the more reason to eat dinner on the couch.
For the next 24 hours, we carefully watched and took care of the little guy. Our “care” consisted of lifting the lid to see if it had drank any of the water or had moved from it’s side position. It wasn’t much but the kids and I decided we were at least giving it a better chance at life than should we have placed it back out into the wild. The mouse eventually worked into the name “Louise the Big Cheese” and the kids contemplated what she might look like fully grown – even though they seemed to understand she probably wouldn’t make it to adulthood.
On the morning of the second day, we found Louise curled up, and no longer in pain. It was decided we would bury her in my front planter bed, amongst the gladiolis I had recently planted. After I dug the hole and placed the tiny body inside of it, I asked the kids if they wanted to say anything.
C-dub’s reply was, “Louise. She was a good mouse.”
And onto mouse heaven she went. Although sad, I was proud of how the kiddos accepted her fate and helped to say goodbye. I don’t think Gunny ever caught on with what happened and his only concern was whether or not the dogs like the “ouse.” He can be such a little hard headed turd.
I’m looking into turned Gracie onto the vegan lifestyle. Anyone know where they make soy mouse or tuna flavored hummus?