Ninja Mice - The Thrilling Conclusion

And now for the exciting conclusion to The Mice Are Ninjas!

https://steemit.com/funny/@lenadr/the-mice-are-ninjas (in case you missed it)

We left off with our hero frustrated and defeated by the cunning little mice. But she did not give up, no! And one week later...

It really was only about a week after the humane trap humiliation. I'd set a second one up in the laundry room where I stored the dog biscuits.

One morning, I picked it up like I always did and discovered that it was heavy. I was so used to picking up empty traps to reset that for a second I was confused by the weight. But I peeked in and sure enough, there he was, poor little thing crammed into a corner. I was overjoyed but felt sorry for the guy – he must have been so completely freaked out.

So I quietly put him into a dark spot while I got dressed and gathered up my things for the day. On the car ride out to his new destination I tried to talk to him soothingly, offered a few words of encouragement, and steered clear of any big bumps that might startle him. No doubt this was his first car ride and I wanted to make the experience as pleasant as possible, despite the fact that he was squished in a strange box with pee and poop and stale bread around him. I guess I just didn’t want to traumatize him even more than I’m sure he already was.

Out here, I find myself wondering how the animals must feel in certain situations. Understandably, animals don’t have the range of emotion or logical thought that humans do, so I end up with two scenarios, the first of which is strictly animal point-of-view:

The mouse is stuck in a small spot that he can’t get out of. Scary. No matter how hard he tries, he can’t move to get to a safe place. Food becomes irrelevant; all he’s thinking is escape. For hours. When the sun comes up, he gets even more panicky because normally by this time he’s secure in his dark and secluded den. Then a huge beast comes up glaring at him, jostling his box, and he has no way of protecting himself. This goes against every instinct, every thought, every behavior he’s ever had. Danger = run, hide. Not only can he not run, but he’s completely exposed. In his little mouse mind he’s not dwelling in dread, wondering, “Where is she taking me and what will she do to me? Am I going to die? What’s going on?” His little mind is in a subliminal repeat: Danger, run, hide; danger, run, hide; danger, run, hide.

So even as I’m sitting there cooing to him in the passenger seat where he’s secure and covered, I realize he doesn’t care/ doesn’t recognize speech/ doesn’t process the strange sounds I’m making. But I do it anyway because of scenario two, which is a Dr. Doolittle cartoon-type existence where animals have the same consciousness as humans. We'll get to that.

About four miles down the road I pulled over in a parking lot. This was it; I had the business of freedom to attend to. At the wooded edge of the lot, I gently placed the box on the ground, leaned back, and opened the top, preparing for him to launch out (possibly at my face) and dash around willy-nilly. But the lid didn’t open all the way, and his upper body was still covered. Neither one of us moved. A bird chirped somewhere in the distance.

Finally, reluctantly, and expecting a face attack, I pulled him out by the tail and put him in the grass. For two or three long seconds he just stood there, looking at me (debating a face attack).

<--me mouse -->

Suddenly he leapt spring-loaded style straight up into the air and as soon as his paws hit the ground, he dashed off into the safety of the trees. And I went about my day feeling like the act of saving this little mouse's life was the best thing any human has ever done. And in my euphoria I trashed the trap which was stinking of pee and poop and rodent terror, not thinking that I’d need to use it again to catch the rest of the mice in the house.

And here’s the part you won’t believe: I haven’t seen a single poop since.

I didn’t have mice. I had a mouse. One mouse. That whole time. It doesn’t make sense to me either, but there it is.

Now that the cats are older, they bring mice into the house to murder, and just this afternoon I removed the corpse of a rat from the living room. But there is no evidence of any rodent actually camping out at my house. And looking back I am so grateful I didn't resort to using poison.

Next time on Ninja Mice:

And what did the mouse have to say about all this? Hear it from the rodent's perspective! Which version will you believe??