A Work Tail
Every so often my job is a little strange.
Last night I'm sitting at the reception desk, minding my own business, watching a downloaded TV show. Suddenly I hear a thump. A small thump. Like something falling. Or landing, rather, after falling. So I take a look-see around, because it sounded close, and on the counter at eye-level, not three feet away, is a mouse.
Yes, a mouse.
I jumped a bit because, holy fuck, mouse outta nowhere! And I'm sure I did a very cartoonish "look at the mouse, look up at the second floor walkway, look at the mouse, look back up at the second floor walkway, look back down at the mouse" thing. And I was feeling sad and a little grossed out because this cute little mouse either had a horrible misadventure and slipped, was cruelly defenestrated by another mouse, or just tried to commit mousey suicide, squeaking "Goodbye cruel world" as he hurled himself into the foyer, and now I had dead mouse to clean up.
But as I watched, the mouse spoked the wheels of 'Twas the Night Before Xmas and began stirring, blinking his little eyes groggily. And just as I'm thinking "Boy, mouse, you got knocked the fuck out" and giggling that this mouse nearly pancaked itself on my desk, it occurs to me that since it's alive I need to, ya know, catch it. Looking around for a Suitable Mouse-Catching Tool™, I decide upon a co-worker's large plastic cup, as it is sturdy and, more importantly, tall enough to prevent escape. After a few minutes of mouse-wrangling I manage to shepherd (mouseherd?) the little fellow into the cup with the assistance of the secretary's name plaque (shhhh, don't tell her). Huzzah, one mouse successfully caught.
...ummm, now what?
Well, I'm not gonna kill it. I mean, the thing just survived an 8-foot drop onto a marble counter (yes that is a drywall-dust outline of where the mouse went "whoomp!"). I don't know what the human equivalent is, but damn, it's a lot! Besides, I'm pretty sure an injustice of that magnitude would earn me the wrath of Vercingetorix for sure. I wondered if maybe he could survive outdoors, but he was definitely not a full grown mouse, and mousechild abandonment is just mean. Although I did bring the cup outside and laid it down in case he wanted to make a break for it. Poor little thing stuck one paw in the snow, and then curled up in the back of the cup as far from the stuff as possible. I didn't see any convenient mouseholes, nor indeed anywhere in the building that it would a good idea to release him. Cuz, ya know, it's a laboratory, and I think my employers would frown upon my encouragement of free-range mousedom. I briefly (very briefly) entertained the idea of taking him home and keeping him as a pet, but that was just a bad idea of many levels. Eventually I came to the conclusion that the best course open to me was to set him loose in the dumpster out back, which was out of the wind and had plenty of lovely garbage to eat and burrow into.
*sigh*
Seriously, I debated this mouse's fate for almost an hour. I had visions of frantic mouse mothers wondering where their offspring had gone to; poor young mice separated from their families through misfortune...
Yeah, it's horribly unbutch, but fuck you. The day I kill adorable mice is the day I will sell back every Brian Jacques and CS Lewis book I own, as well as any Don Bluth, Disney or Pixar movie that has a rodent in it.
Although it did occur to me after I'd let him go that I have no idea if he was a wild mouse that snuck in, or the offspring of wild mice who'd nested in the building, or if he was an escaped lab mouse. I'm hoping he was a wild mouse. If he had science experiments done on him, and suddenly he mutates and we're overrun with 50-foot mice rampaging through town a la Night of the Lepus, umm... my bad.
Last night I'm sitting at the reception desk, minding my own business, watching a downloaded TV show. Suddenly I hear a thump. A small thump. Like something falling. Or landing, rather, after falling. So I take a look-see around, because it sounded close, and on the counter at eye-level, not three feet away, is a mouse.
Yes, a mouse.
I jumped a bit because, holy fuck, mouse outta nowhere! And I'm sure I did a very cartoonish "look at the mouse, look up at the second floor walkway, look at the mouse, look back up at the second floor walkway, look back down at the mouse" thing. And I was feeling sad and a little grossed out because this cute little mouse either had a horrible misadventure and slipped, was cruelly defenestrated by another mouse, or just tried to commit mousey suicide, squeaking "Goodbye cruel world" as he hurled himself into the foyer, and now I had dead mouse to clean up.
But as I watched, the mouse spoked the wheels of 'Twas the Night Before Xmas and began stirring, blinking his little eyes groggily. And just as I'm thinking "Boy, mouse, you got knocked the fuck out" and giggling that this mouse nearly pancaked itself on my desk, it occurs to me that since it's alive I need to, ya know, catch it. Looking around for a Suitable Mouse-Catching Tool™, I decide upon a co-worker's large plastic cup, as it is sturdy and, more importantly, tall enough to prevent escape. After a few minutes of mouse-wrangling I manage to shepherd (mouseherd?) the little fellow into the cup with the assistance of the secretary's name plaque (shhhh, don't tell her). Huzzah, one mouse successfully caught.
...ummm, now what?
Well, I'm not gonna kill it. I mean, the thing just survived an 8-foot drop onto a marble counter (yes that is a drywall-dust outline of where the mouse went "whoomp!"). I don't know what the human equivalent is, but damn, it's a lot! Besides, I'm pretty sure an injustice of that magnitude would earn me the wrath of Vercingetorix for sure. I wondered if maybe he could survive outdoors, but he was definitely not a full grown mouse, and mousechild abandonment is just mean. Although I did bring the cup outside and laid it down in case he wanted to make a break for it. Poor little thing stuck one paw in the snow, and then curled up in the back of the cup as far from the stuff as possible. I didn't see any convenient mouseholes, nor indeed anywhere in the building that it would a good idea to release him. Cuz, ya know, it's a laboratory, and I think my employers would frown upon my encouragement of free-range mousedom. I briefly (very briefly) entertained the idea of taking him home and keeping him as a pet, but that was just a bad idea of many levels. Eventually I came to the conclusion that the best course open to me was to set him loose in the dumpster out back, which was out of the wind and had plenty of lovely garbage to eat and burrow into.
*sigh*
Seriously, I debated this mouse's fate for almost an hour. I had visions of frantic mouse mothers wondering where their offspring had gone to; poor young mice separated from their families through misfortune...
Yeah, it's horribly unbutch, but fuck you. The day I kill adorable mice is the day I will sell back every Brian Jacques and CS Lewis book I own, as well as any Don Bluth, Disney or Pixar movie that has a rodent in it.
Although it did occur to me after I'd let him go that I have no idea if he was a wild mouse that snuck in, or the offspring of wild mice who'd nested in the building, or if he was an escaped lab mouse. I'm hoping he was a wild mouse. If he had science experiments done on him, and suddenly he mutates and we're overrun with 50-foot mice rampaging through town a la Night of the Lepus, umm... my bad.