La Alaskeña

Sifl the cat had been making some weird noises and batting at something behind the bean bag. I assumed he was up to his usual hijinks, which is being the weirdest (and also sweetest) cat ever. But then I noticed a tail. Hanging out of his mouth.

Sifl catches the occasional mouse. I know it’s all part of the circle of life, but I feel just terrible for the mouse. Shouldn’t mice die of old age, after a delicious meal of cheese and peanut butter, surrounded by their loving mice family and friends? That’s how it should be, but too often they die in a cat’s gullet, or in a trap, or worst of all, from swallowing poison.

 I tried to get Sifl to show me his mouse. I mean, I couldn’t let him eat it. Gross. He finally dropped the mouse, and guess what? It was still alive. I don’t know how it was breathing with its head inside Sifl’s mouth. This mouse is a fighter, ladies and gentlemen. It took off like a rocket, a scared, wounded rocket.

So I caught it. I have a knack for catching tiny mammals. I once caught a bat in my sweatshirt, but that’s a story for a different day. Oh yes, I caught this sweet little mouse, and as I held its tiny, trembling body, I knew exactly what I was going to do with it: name it Martha and make it my new pet.

I put Martha in a Tupperware container and began dutifully poking holes in the top, so she could breathe ok. Then I cut her a generous slice of white cheddar cheese and put some water in the cap of an old medicine bottle. I asked her to hold still, and I got the water in there ok, but as I was placing the cheese, Martha escaped! She didn’t understand that being put in that container was probably the best thing that had ever happened to her. She didn’t understand that by staying put like I’d asked, she was guaranteed a life of unlimited cheese and unconditional love, and maybe even one of those wheels to run on.

The chase was on. I had to get to Martha before two hungry cats and one curious dog. Sadly, Martha didn’t understand that the big white hands were trying to help her, and she hid from them. She hid really well. As in, she got away. I’d given up on her, but the cats hadn’t. Sifl waited patiently for almost an hour by the heater, where she’d disappeared, and sure enough, she came out eventually. Sifl chased Martha across the room, where I was waiting with my Tupperware. My friends, Martha is alive and well, and at the moment, eating cheese happily.

This whole drama had me thinking about mice, which people go to great lengths to get rid of. Why would you want to kill a helpless mouse?

Mice are our friends, duh.

If we just gave them the chance, they’d wear clothes and speak English and paddle canoes. I say it’s time to finally forgive our little rodent friends for the whole Bubonic Plague thing and just learn how to co-exist peacefully.

That being said, Martha’s little friends had better stay out of the kitchen.