Death of a Sales-Mouse
Anextraordinary thing occurred, recently, to me a mouse, with which I’m not to be confused, for I am a man. It appeared to have been caught, by one of the eleven traps I had set out (a total of sixteen had been put out—first eight, then eleven, with three equipment failures carry-overs in from the first strike), however, only its snout had been grazed (and was bloody for it); it was a survivor. The mouse was apparently weak and visibly shaken. So, I placed it in a mason jar and thus brought ‘Little Guantanamo’ its first detainee. Although in ordinary circumstances the Geneva Conventions would not apply, I decided that the mouse should at least have some water, because after all, I didn’t want it to die from dehydration. It first needed to talk. I would feed it water, and dangle carrots of freedom and breadcrumbs and milk it for all the information it was worth. This, however, is where I was mistaken. After I dripped a small amount of water (a small amount—not enough to drown the poor bastard. <– the period here is for seriousness—even though I really am excited enough—with indignation—to justify an exclamation mark) into the mason jar, the mouse, after a few moments—i.e. not necessarily from the contact of the water—started freaking out, as though the water were boiling or ice cold or acid or some very strong base. I don’t know if it has anything to do with the little black pieces which I presume to be mouse droppings that were clearly infecting the water with their foulness. I just don’t think a mouse would get that excited over sanitation. The mouse was shaking with excitement, it seemed. It tried in a very lively way to get out of the container—with much more energy than I thought the mouse had in its visibly weakened, and logically hungry state. It was trying desperately—desperately—to get out of that mason jar. It then came into further contact with the water—again, the mouse was wet, but I wouldn’t say the mouse was ever in the situation—at least for a long enough time—that its death could have been caused by drowning. It eventually lay down, and was dead shortly after. So, naturally I am now concerned about the water. This is one of those situations like in the movies, where a character exclaims “Stop! Don’t drink/eat that! It’s poisoned!” and then points to a dead rodent for credibility. What else could the mouse have/dies [1]from?? It definitely didn’t drown; It was not could have been enough to have been cold enough for hypothermia; It was not blood loss (due to the spritely nature of the little fellow towards the final throes); It seems to not have been a long enough period of time for the germs of the feces to do their work and kill the mouse; Could it have died of exhaustion?? In trying to escape?? But then why was it so obviously afraid of the water—but not because of the wetness/coldness etc!!! Maybe germs work on a much faster level on mouse scales?? Maybe the mouse knew it would die from infection. The mouse did not seem initially afraid of the water. Maybe, the adrenaline needed for the freak out took a while to kick in. Maybe the mouse needed time to work out in its mind that the sudden presence of water meant that there was a way out—then freaked out in trying really desperately to escape & died from the exhaustion of it. Or maybe mice experience hypothermia at a higher temperature than we do? Maybe the mouse is playing dead!! I’ve been duped!
…crafty little bastard…
Now I’m the one who’s being tortured. Maybe that’s karma. It feeds on the neurotic.
[1] Three meanings: have died from, have and die from, die from, have from. <– ”four meanings” you might say—but one of these is not really a meaning.
