A moment of silence
A little brown mouse crawled into an open area between a few of our offices at work today. "Ew! A mouse!" yelled a coworker. I got up from my desk to check it out. Yep, there's a mouse.
And then the mouse laid on its side.
And then the mouse twitched a little.
And then the mouse died.
I witnessed a death today. I know it was just a mouse, but it was horrible! It's one thing to find a dead mouse. It's completely different when the poor little furry dies in front of you. My heart just ached. I have a soft spot for all the furries of the world, disease-carrying or not.
I called a coworker on the other side of the building to ask if she'd come get rid of it; she's been known to deal with this sort of thing before and it doesn't gross her out. Unfortunately, she had already left for the day. The other coworker who answered the phone said I should flush it down the toilet, the thought being that if it wasn't quite dead, then flushing would surely kill it. Now, every women's bathroom stall in our building has a sign on the inside of the door asking that no tampon applicators be flushed. If a piece of plastic could get stuck, dontcha think a dead mouse could too? Can you imagine if the toilet backed up and the bathroom flooded because of dead mousey? Ew. Double ew.
I then called Buildings and Grounds to see if someone could come get dead mousey. No one answered the phone. So, one of my fellow MEs and I dealt with it ourselves. I got a copy paper box top and held it steady while she pushed dead mousey into it with a file folder. I then headed down to the warehouse. I whined to everyone on the way about how traumatized we all were at the death, and now disposal, of the mouse. I yelled for all to get out of my way.
I trudged into the snow outside the loading dock (oh, yeah, we had our first real snow today).
I said a little prayer to myself.
I flung the mouse into the snow.
Throwing it into the garbage dump seemed somehow disrespectful. "Burying" it in the snow seemed more natural. I hope that if it wasn't completely dead, that being in the snow finished the deed.
Ugh. It was awful. I shall never recover. Okay, so I'm already recovered. But I still feel ookey.
Poor, poor mouse.
Rest in peace.
And then the mouse laid on its side.
And then the mouse twitched a little.
And then the mouse died.
I witnessed a death today. I know it was just a mouse, but it was horrible! It's one thing to find a dead mouse. It's completely different when the poor little furry dies in front of you. My heart just ached. I have a soft spot for all the furries of the world, disease-carrying or not.
I called a coworker on the other side of the building to ask if she'd come get rid of it; she's been known to deal with this sort of thing before and it doesn't gross her out. Unfortunately, she had already left for the day. The other coworker who answered the phone said I should flush it down the toilet, the thought being that if it wasn't quite dead, then flushing would surely kill it. Now, every women's bathroom stall in our building has a sign on the inside of the door asking that no tampon applicators be flushed. If a piece of plastic could get stuck, dontcha think a dead mouse could too? Can you imagine if the toilet backed up and the bathroom flooded because of dead mousey? Ew. Double ew.
I then called Buildings and Grounds to see if someone could come get dead mousey. No one answered the phone. So, one of my fellow MEs and I dealt with it ourselves. I got a copy paper box top and held it steady while she pushed dead mousey into it with a file folder. I then headed down to the warehouse. I whined to everyone on the way about how traumatized we all were at the death, and now disposal, of the mouse. I yelled for all to get out of my way.
I trudged into the snow outside the loading dock (oh, yeah, we had our first real snow today).
I said a little prayer to myself.
I flung the mouse into the snow.
Throwing it into the garbage dump seemed somehow disrespectful. "Burying" it in the snow seemed more natural. I hope that if it wasn't completely dead, that being in the snow finished the deed.
Ugh. It was awful. I shall never recover. Okay, so I'm already recovered. But I still feel ookey.
Poor, poor mouse.
Rest in peace.
posted by Beverly at 6:14 PM
3 Comments:
Yes, I feel the same way about mice; I have since I read Stuart Little. But I just HATE to find their droppings. Sort of a love/hate relationship, like I have with my skunks.
Guess I shouldn't tell you about the time we found one sitting on our stairs at our old house (old, old farmhouse) and beaned him over the head with an old frying pan. Oops, I told you. Sorry.
Yeah, the twitching is awful. It stays with you.
You did well. It's hard.
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