Thursday, December 01, 2005

Mousey's Last Break

A few of you might remember the “guest blog” posted here by the family mouse a while back. In it, he said he was ‘busting out of the joint.’ Not long afterwards, I heard frantic cries coming from the family room. I rushed downstairs to find my wife holding a baseball cap under the door to the cage. Mousey had pushed the twist ties of the cage enough so that he could wriggle through the door. But only halfway. He was dangling halfway in, halfway out while Wendy held the cap under him so he wouldn’t fall to the floor.

But that was his last escape attempt. This morning, he lay still in the sleeping quarters of his Habit-trail. Mousey finally had left this world behind.

I guess it speaks to our family’s general indifference that we never officially named him (my youngest son bought him on a whim while at college). I called him “Mousey.” Our boys occasionally called him “Bear.” Wendy, who never warmed to him at all, called him “the rat." We couldn’t even really decide what he was. My wife said he was a long-haired hamster. I still say he was a mouse.

Despite his rodent family history, I still thought that as one of god’s warm-blooded creatures he deserved a good life of sorts, particularly since he had pet status. So I shared my snacks with him occasionally, whether it was a Cheez-it or a peanut butter cracker. I bought him a salt block and sawed a piece of an old pool cue for him to gnaw on. When it was my turn to clean his cage, I would let him run free in the basement, even after he ran up my pant leg once as I bent over on hands and knees putting his cage back together. When it was time to put him back home, he would play hide and seek with me. Once I found him nestled in Wendy’s old wedding dress.

On Thanksgiving, I gave him a peanut butter cracker and a Cheeto. He never ate them. He pushed them to the side instead. That was a clue he wasn’t well. Mousey never saved snacks for later. When it was obvious that he was on his last legs, I e-mailed my sister-in-law in whose borrowed cage he had been living. She responded, “I'm sorry to hear about the mouse, I think. He lived a good life. (Didn't he?)”

I’d like to think so. For a mouse, anyway.


Blogger Fred said...

Sounds like Mousey did okay for himself. I don't eat crackers or Cheetos due to my diet, so I think he did just fine while he was here.

So long, Mousey. Nice knowing ya'.

4:36 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

maybe he was a mouselike(mooselike) mammal from south america?

6:18 AM  
Blogger Deb said...

I am so sorry to hear about Mousey. It's obvious that he was loved, and in his own little way, he knew it. Very well-written story though; definately "Chicken Soup" material.

6:35 AM  
Blogger poopie said...

*sniff* My condolences to your family over losing the rat, um..i mean Mousey.

10:19 AM  
Blogger OldHorsetailSnake said...

Sure he did. Show me another mouse that gets gifted peanut butter crackers....

10:51 AM  
Blogger Peter said...

HI dave are you sure he wasn't a mickey mouse, thats a tit mouse with bad brakes.

5:58 AM  
Blogger WordWhiz said...

I do remember that other post about "Mousey" because my son had just gotten a gerbil from a neighbor who was moving away. Cute story. Poor Mousey. I susect he lived a VERY good life!

8:55 AM  
Blogger schnoodlepooh said...

Awwww, so sorry to hear about Mousey. He had a good life, but it's still sad to see a family member go to that great big cheese ball in the sky.
My condolences.

9:56 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...


12:52 AM  

Post a Comment

<< Home