Mouse!

Pickle has turned into a very profecient hunter since he's been allowed
into the Out.

*Too* proficient, in fact.

I'm all for reducing the rodent population, but please, for the sake of
small sensitive mouse-loving Yowlets, could we *not* leave the disembowelled
remains about the house for him to find?

I've had to conduct two mouse funerals in the past two days. These are not
fun events, and the ceremonies are sad, solemn and deep affairs. We have to
talk of a good mouse's life, and how Pickle is very naughty. Cary knows all
about Mouse Heaven now, and how happy little mice that have died on this
earth scurry around free and happy with lots and lots of cheese to eat.
There are going to be *lots* of mice and no doubt other Pickle-kill waiting
at Rainbow Bridge for my boy

Today I had to break up a fight between Pickle, a mouse, and Cary. Cary was
on the mouse's side.

The mouse, a small field mouse, was smart and played dead as I pried it from
a very dissapointed Pickle's mouth. As Cary chastised Pickle and put him on
the naughty chair (not that he stayed there, but naughty cats are much the
same as naughty boys in that regard), I was left with a mouse that may or
may not have been in a position to recover. Cary naturally wanted to make it
into a beloved pet, but wild field mice with whatever diseases they may have
are a far cry from the pet mice his pre-school has.

Clasping the poor creature gingerly by its tail (I had no wish to be bitten)
I popped it into a glass jar and quickly placed on the lid. After a few
minutes the mousey whiskers started twitching again, and it was clear it was
*alive* (although how much life was left, I don't know)

Thanking Bast that the Yowlet is a proffessional nudist and therefore
couldn't come outside with me without suitable attire (which would take him
a good half hour to put on.... on a good day) I took the oppurtunity to take
Lucky out into the garden where he/she/it was unceremoniously shaken out of
the jar and down into the drain. I hope it lives a happy mousey life down
there, and tells all the other little rodents about the time it was saved
from the White Furry Evil that lives in my house so that no others come to
'visit'.

Yowie
--
If you're paddling upstream in a canoe and a wheel falls off, how many
pancakes can you fit in a doghouse? None, icecream doesn't have bones.

Pickle has turned into a very profecient hunter since he's been allowed
into the Out.
*Too* proficient, in fact.
I'm all for reducing the rodent population, but please, for the sake
of small sensitive mouse-loving Yowlets, could we *not* leave the
disembowelled remains about the house for him to find?

I went into the bathroom a few weeks ago to find Ollie and Courtney
sitting on their separate mats on opposite sides of the floor, both
looking at an intact, still-warm dead mouse exactly in between them.

I could imagine the speech bubbles:

- okay big boy, that was your idea, we got it, now what?
- it's just catfood, it goes in a tin, stupid.
- you got the thumbs to work a tinopener backwards? didn't think so.
- well cook it then, Mummy taught you that, didn't she?
- if you're such a gourmet you can try being Jamie Oliver...

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Jack Campin, 11 Third St, Newtongrange EH22 4PU, Scotland == mob 07800 739 557
CD-ROMs and free stuff: Scottish music, food intolerance, and Mac logic fonts
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Yowie wrote:
Pickle has turned into a very profecient hunter since he's been allowed
into the Out.

*Too* proficient, in fact.

snip great story

I used to think that the reason I didn't have mice, although I lived in
a leaky old house notorious for mouse infestations and I'd thrown out
all the previous tenants' trays of poison, was that mice were smart
enough to smell the cats and stay well away. I began to wonder about the
intelligence of mice when Mandy and Betsy (both now RB) started to age
and slow down a bit. There was the deceased, but apparently undamaged
mouse in the jeans in the laundry pile; the severely shaken but alive
one I rescued from the cats, although I strongly suspect it either died
from shock or internal injuries shortly afterwards, or fell prey to one
of the many Out cats, and worst of all, the back half of a mouse I
nearly walked on in the upstairs hall. It almost looked like someone
(some cat?) had taken a knife to it. I concluded that mice aren't
particularly bright, and that the cats, when younger, had been snacking
on them all along, leaving no leftovers and turning up for regular meals
(and as much more as they could cadge) as well.

I have to confess I haven't held a burial service for any of them! G

Cheryl

"Yowie" wrote in message
...


I've had to conduct two mouse funerals in the past two days. These are not
fun events, and the ceremonies are sad, solemn and deep affairs. We have
to talk of a good mouse's life, and how Pickle is very naughty. Cary knows
all about Mouse Heaven now, and how happy little mice that have died on
this earth scurry around free and happy with lots and lots of cheese to
eat. There are going to be *lots* of mice and no doubt other Pickle-kill
waiting at Rainbow Bridge for my boy


Welcome to sensitive parenthood. I've conducted funerals for worms, bugs,
cats, dogs, squirrels, baby rabbits, and birds. Explaining worm heaven is
not as easy as the Rainbow bridge, which is where all the other animals now
reside.

On the other hand, you can be proud that Cary is a sensitive young chap who
cares about the undermouse. I bet he'll become one of the best volunteers
at a shelter of some kind in the future.

Pam S. smiling