I’m glad my husband stopped reading my blog…because there are some things he’s just better off not knowing.
We have pet mice. I’ve written all about them. First there were three girls, somehow they had babies, we neutered the male we didn’t know we had, somehow they all died, I immediately replaced them with four more, and of those four…two remain.
Don’t be grossed out…they’re sisters. It’s a beautiful thing. But the black one will not stop scratching herself. She has horrible cuts across her neck from scratching. I pointed her out to Pat and was all, “doesn’t that just make you feel awful!?! When you see those cuts on her?” and Pat was all “No not at all…it makes me want to throw it in the garage for the cats.”
But when I see the cuts on the mouse I cringe…just like when I see open soars on my son after he’s been scratching at his eczema. I love my son more then the mouse (one would hope right?), but I feel sorry for her.
I told Twitter about my problem and she was all “take your mouse to the vet and have her put down.”
So I did.
The daycare kids had no idea that our little “field trip” was actually a “death march”, but you know…it’s the cycle of life.
So we drop it off at the vet and are told to return in 15 minutes for the body.
I know.
I grieved with my tall caramel latte after swinging through the local Starbucks and then returned to the vet for my mouse, feeling partially sad that it had to be killed and partially relieved that it was out of it’s misery.
But when I got there the giddy doctor came back and was all, “I think we can save your mouse!!” and I was all “oh. So it’s…alive?? What great news!” and she was all “Yes! Your mouse has mange…which are mites…and she will need three treatments. Come back once a week for the next three weeks and sterilize your mouse’s cage!”
And this is the part where I’m glad my husband no longer reads my blog…
I paid $20 for the mouse’s little treatment. In three weeks I’ll have spent $60 on saving this black mouse.$60 for a mouse that would cost about $2 to replace.
I’m ignoring the fact that the doctor advised me to bring the sister in for treatments too since this “mange” is contagious.
$120 on two mice?
I know.
The white mouse is not scratching like the black mouse is so I’m just going to let her go on and do her thing. But my conscious won’t let me NOT treat the black mouse.
My Dad once lectured me on “God’s Creatures” after I dumped a coffee can of potato bugs I’d been collecting in the middle of the yard. “They’re just bugs!” I said. But then he said the words that I’ve carried with me for the rest of my life, “We’re all God’s Creatures…even the little bugs.”
I probably would have forgotten that lesson if my Dad hadn’t gone and died a year later. But because he died I took every important lesson he taught me and made it my life’s mission to live accordingly. It’s why I’ve never attempted to smoke a cigarette and refuse to experiment with drugs. I’m holding on to those few lessons I was lucky enough to receive from him. (My mother is doing the sign of the cross right now…”thank you Jesus”.)
Which is why I cannot let this mouse die…it’s God’s Creature. I will either go straight to hell OR I can save it and God will greet me with a crown of roses at the threshold of heaven’s gates for helping his mouse.
Which would YOU choose?
$60 to save a mouse or a crown of roses at the gates of heaven? The answer is clear, no?