Waiting To Die
When I got up this morning, my bread bag had a hole in it and several pieces of bread were littered with teethmarks. Even though I keep a clean house, it appeared that in light of the cold weather, I had a small, furry visitor.
I laid some traps before I went to work, praying that somehow, some way, the mouse would see them, get the hint, wait by the door for me to get home, then skirt out before I saw him. That way I wouldn't have murder on my conscious. No such luck. When I walked in the door, I heard a feverish scratching sound and a nice, plump gray mouse was desperately trying to free himself from the glue trap.
However, the trap was laid near a small appliance. Somehow the mouse had straddled the chord to the appliance and then found himself firmly stuck to the trap. I could not free the chord of the appliance without literally ripping off the mouse's feet.
I couldn't do it.
Crying, I took the trap and the appliance outside and that's where it sits. I called a friend to come over and "take care of it" and now I'm waiting.
So is the mouse.
He has to know he is going to die and that fact troubles me deeply. What must it be like to know that you were trapped, forever. We've all heard stories about mountain climbers who faced this fate and literally cut off their own arm with a pen knife.
But the mouse doesn't have a knife with which he could extricate himself and so he lays there, waiting.
It sounds ridiculous to cry over a mouse, but this has brought something up within me that I cannot explain. It isn't his fault he was in my house, eating my food, trying to stay warm.
But he gave his life for it.
How I wish he had positioned himself differently! Then I could have put him in a ziploc, sealed it, and he would have gone to sleep. Death seems better to me when it's quick and quiet.
I can't say painless, because is there ever such a thing?
Not when you're stuck to a glue trap.
I hope that when I die I don't know it. I hope I have the best day of my life, have made peace with everyone in my life, go to sleep and never wake up. I never want to be burned alive or eaten by sharks or tortured. And I would never want to be in a position where I could see death coming for me and just sit there, waiting.
I'm so sorry the mouse had to die. Had I been able to catch him and set him free somewhere else, I would have.
So many times in my life I've felt trapped. It takes only a little mouse on a glue pit to make me see how free I've always been.
I laid some traps before I went to work, praying that somehow, some way, the mouse would see them, get the hint, wait by the door for me to get home, then skirt out before I saw him. That way I wouldn't have murder on my conscious. No such luck. When I walked in the door, I heard a feverish scratching sound and a nice, plump gray mouse was desperately trying to free himself from the glue trap.
However, the trap was laid near a small appliance. Somehow the mouse had straddled the chord to the appliance and then found himself firmly stuck to the trap. I could not free the chord of the appliance without literally ripping off the mouse's feet.
I couldn't do it.
Crying, I took the trap and the appliance outside and that's where it sits. I called a friend to come over and "take care of it" and now I'm waiting.
So is the mouse.
He has to know he is going to die and that fact troubles me deeply. What must it be like to know that you were trapped, forever. We've all heard stories about mountain climbers who faced this fate and literally cut off their own arm with a pen knife.
But the mouse doesn't have a knife with which he could extricate himself and so he lays there, waiting.
It sounds ridiculous to cry over a mouse, but this has brought something up within me that I cannot explain. It isn't his fault he was in my house, eating my food, trying to stay warm.
But he gave his life for it.
How I wish he had positioned himself differently! Then I could have put him in a ziploc, sealed it, and he would have gone to sleep. Death seems better to me when it's quick and quiet.
I can't say painless, because is there ever such a thing?
Not when you're stuck to a glue trap.
I hope that when I die I don't know it. I hope I have the best day of my life, have made peace with everyone in my life, go to sleep and never wake up. I never want to be burned alive or eaten by sharks or tortured. And I would never want to be in a position where I could see death coming for me and just sit there, waiting.
I'm so sorry the mouse had to die. Had I been able to catch him and set him free somewhere else, I would have.
So many times in my life I've felt trapped. It takes only a little mouse on a glue pit to make me see how free I've always been.