I can’t speak easily about the sweet mouse.
I refuse to believe that he is a harbinger of disease and death. I refuse to believe that the world could be that cruel, that one small fluffy bright-eyed mouse could take out my entire family, fill our lungs with fluid, wipe us out, blast any hope or hint of a future to smithereens. And yet the joke will be on the poor Jenny Mattern posse if we’re all gone by Valentine’s Day, all because of the aerosoled germs of a baby mouse smaller than two medium cotton balls placed side by side. I can just see the People article.
There are larger themes at work, of course there are. I am a broken woman this year, as the poor people who must deal with me in real life on a regular basis can tell you. Because as many of you know, I am watching the canine love of my life slowly leave me, and I am not taking it well.
Now a Hanukkah Miracle Mouse drops out of a light fixture into my bathroom, and—BOOM—another life that suddenly I am responsible for in some, albeit small, way.
People are revolted, confused, can’t believe we are biding our time before we get rid of the vermin that fell from our attic. He is currently housed in a small aquarium with nutritious seeds and fresh water and a toilet paper tube to hide in and pink fluffy eco-friendly bedding (we chose pink because he or she came to us from the pink fluffy attic insulation wasteland). We are nothing if not a thoughtful family. Possibly breathtakingly stupid, and yet, thoughtful at the same time. It is a difficult paradox to witness, and an even more difficult one to live, trust us.
“I love you guys,” said one friend tonight, most fondly, “But you’re pathetic.” He said it with great kindness, and I appreciated it.
We are coming to grips with the catch-and-release concept for our Miracle Mouse (Festival of Lights! Hanukkah! Dropped OUT OF A LIGHT FIXTURE INTO OUR WORLD!), but we need more time, so please don’t be cruel. There is too much loss right now—you don’t see what we see every day, you don’t know the loss that extends beyond our beloved, beloved dog—it’s a year for good, old-fashioned, cry until your waterproof mascara’s gone and your eyes are swollen and your heart can’t bear to bid goodbye to one more living, breathing creature, no matter how sick it may be, no matter how sick it may make you.
We are working on catch-love-and-release. I am doing the best I can. I really am.
{ 26 comments }
meh, keep the mouse, be happy. Just don’t kiss him on the lips.
In our old house, my husband spent HOURS catching the mouse that came for warmth when the weather turned cold. It touched my heart, that catch and release. But I was damn glad when he finally surrendered to, um, efficiency. Little fuzzy menaces weren’t so cute when their poop was in my pantry. Ugh.
As for the dog…. I have no words.
I think it’s beautiful that you’re taking such good care of your new visitor. With this and all of your considerate (sometimes quirky) kind gestures toward your various household inhabitants, you’re really teaching the girls a lesson about kindness toward all creatures (large and small/living and ghostly apparitions).
And of course my heart breaks for Mr. F.–he has always been such a loyal, gentlemanly pooch. But he has had a lucky life since the best owner possible took him home from the Morris Animal refuge many years ago. I’m so sorry that now you have to go through this gut-wrenching loss (and anticipation of loss).
When you were growing up, our household was the haven for wounded or stray critters. We had heat lamps and cardboard boxes and even vicks vaporub for the sick turtle.
So I know this is hard for you and I was one of those hyperventilating about disease until … I peeked in the other night and saw those two tiny luminous eyes looking back at me from the toilet paper roll. It’s not an easy call.
Love you lots (but you know that already).
Mom xxoo
I have loved reading your blog since I discovered it from the Weblog awards. I found it there under strict instruction to vote for someone else, but when I came here, I couldn’t help but vote for you!! Congrats on the win…
I’m new to the blogging world, and I’ve JUST (literally) started my own, and I put you in my blogroll. I hope that’s “cool”. Or something.
Hey by the way, the mouse? I’d keep it. If it hasn’t made anyone sick already, I bet it won’t. Throw caution to the wind. That hantavirus thing? Probably not even true anyways. Some mouse-hater just made that up to get people to stay away from mice. lol
Two years ago, we looked in our back yard and saw a tiny black kitten. It was spring but very cold, so, we brought him into our house. Within 24 hours, he was our new cat. My son named him Fuzzy. Fuzzy was playful and brave and loving and hilarious. We didn’t know then that he was already seriously ill and, two months later, we had to put him down. We were all traumatized. I was devastated. One night, I was crying to a friend of mine, asking why Fuzzy even came into our lives at all. My friend told me something that has stayed with me…she said that this whole experience would teach our son that we are the kind of people that take care of other living things. It would teach him about kindness.
I wouldn’t get rid of the mouse either. Without ever saying a word, you are teaching a valuable less about the value of life.
Poo on everyone else. I think it’s wonderful what you are doing. When I was little I once cried for three days straight because our cat caught and killed a mouse. Circle of life my a**. Just because it’s necessary doesn’t mean we have to like it. (or write songs about it for cripes sake!)
I say keep him/her. At least if he’s in the cage you know he isn’t running around in your cabinets.
My heart is with you. Whatever the animal, if they have settled into your heart, they are family, and you have my sympathies.
As someone who has both lost a canine family member in that slow and sad way, and who has loved pet mice before, my heart goes out to you. (I’ve also rescued mice from traps in our dorm room, and never once got Hantavirus *or* the plague, which my med school professor helpfully suggested as a possibility when I asked him what I could get from those little critters I handled without protection. If I can survive those crazy California mice, I’m hoping your Berkshire one will be okay as well.)
I am sending you all the good thoughts I can possibly muster, and praying that next year will be a better one for you.
I still feel the acute pain of every single dog I’ve ever lost. When I got my last dog I remember holding him as a puppy and promising I would be there for him when the end inevitably came.
I held him in my arms when he took his last breath and tried to tell myself I was keeping a promise. But it’s been over a year now and I am tearing up as I type this.
You are thoughtful. That is a gift. And you have a big, kind heart with a wonderfully gooey chocolate center.
George Carlin isn’t far off the mark when he says kids today don’t get enough exposure to germs. I say keep your wee little attic mouse until you are ready to be done.
I am so sorry for this long goodbye with your dog. We put our Dean down last Christmas. It is simply unbearable losing them.
dude, loss bites. all endings are sad, like i was even bummed when i finished taking the LSATs and i hated that — never mind the times where endings mean relationships!!! my previous mouse post — i forgot to mention i liked that the contact lens was his/her water bowl. it reminds me of the cartoon the Littles and those books The Borrowers.
My Dearest Jenn,
I truly think it is harder to lose and animal than another person. Animals provide honest, unconditional love. When everything else is bad, they will still wag their tale and lick your face and love you. It was only a short time ago that we were putting chemo pills in the back of Jacob’s throat and my mother was cooking him gourmet, all-natural lamb chops for dinner every night. So you love him and stay by his side, it just shows the rest of us the quality of your heart!
Much Love, Rebecca
Jenn,
If you need it, I have some yellow eco bedding and wood chips to contribute to the cause. Both are left over from the hamster who met it’s fate in our house. Freckles, the dog, is a strong suspect in that case but has yet to be charged.
The roaches in the kitchen would like to negotiate with you for better living conditions.
Rodent and roach solidarity forever!
I am so sorry about your poor pooch. I just went through it a few short weeks ago, and I made a hard decision to put him down. He was my first baby, but at 13, I knew I loved him enough to not watch him suffer andy longer. My heart aches for you.
Speaking as someone who has had many pet rats, I say keep the little bugger. Take him to the vet for a well-mouse visit if it’ll make you feel better.
Last year at this time, our good old Ladybug dog died in her sleep,in her usual spot in front of the fireplace on the morning we were going to take her to be put to sleep. I felt (and still do) that she knowingly spared us that trauma.
Thankfully, she was also spared spending her last moments in a cold bright place with strangers, wondering what was going on.
I wish your pup the same peace mine had, there at the end, and I’m so sorry you’re having to go through this.
Of course keep the mouse. In our first apartment we had a small brown mouse we named Gromit. He followed us from room to room, and when we watched television at night he would, I swear to God, pop out from beneath the radiator and sit and watch with us. (He was on the floor. We did draw the line somewhere).
Now that we have very floor centric children, we aren’t so kind to the mice that find their way in. We catch and release as we can, and live and let live until they start getting into the food and up on the counters.
Please give F. a big hug for me. He’s one of the best dogs that ever there was.
Ahhhh Jenn,
The little furry bodies (or the big ones) are the only ones who are ever really happy to see us no matter WHAT. I think that’s part of the reason why it is so painful to lose them. Well, and the sad fact that they have short lifespans in comparison to us. Siiigh. So sorry for you. Mr. Mouse looks and sounds soooo cute! Hanta, shmanta!
Oh Jen.
Hugs. Enjoy the mouse while it’s there. I am sorry about your sweet dog. Our border collie is approaching 17 now, and I hold my breath every morning when I go over to pet her awake, a part of me afraid she has left us in the night.
You guys are so sweet. It’s a great holiday story as well. Your kids will remember it fondly, I’m sure.
We found our most beloved Mutt at the pound. It did not take more than a minute for her to be absolutely adored by all of us. Once, when my youngest son (eight at the time) and I were lying with her on the floor, rubbing her belly, telling her how no dog has ever before or since been so beautiful and good, he looked up at me and said, “You know, when she dies, this is what we are going to remember.”
I hope Santa brings your pup good health, or failing that, that he brings you the strength to deal with your grief. Oh, and here’s hoping that there are no friends for your new mouse pal under the tree – that might just be too much of a good thing…
It’s been just a little over a year ao since my best friend went to dog heaven. Dogs just don’t last long enough–one of the Lord’s goofs. I’d be a basket case if it weren’t for the delight and laughter provided by the new puppy (who is shampoo bubbly clean and silky conditioner soft this evening). I’m not an expert but I know the white-bellied deer mouse that made a brief appearance at our house was much bigger than the two-cotton-ball variety. Contrary has the right idea with a well-mouse visit to the vet so you can succor worry-free.
Alright, I take some if it back. I guess if your’e not sick yet, he can’t be that bad, but I would check the attic for evidence of more. Really!
I’m sorry about your dog! Hugs! Our 6 yr old mut had some kind of eye infection last fall. I had pretty much banished him to the outdoors when I was preggo with my first baby – 4 yrs ago. Now he sleeps in a heated garage. But the thought of him being sick or even losing him (I know, over an eye infection, wtf?!) almost made me shed a tear. You inspire me to include him more in our daily lives. I even took him out for a walk with the kids this morning, but didn’t get far. Too windy and cold, damn Canadian winters. If it weren’t for the lovely warm chinooks we get, I’d winter in Hawaii for 3 months with my Grandma. WOW, ramble much! Now he’s lying on the floor watching my 4 yr old play polly pockets while her brother sleeps in his room. Thanks for giving me a newfound love for my dog!! Happy New Year!
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