Where I Was From

Mousing, Continued

Well, I had been hoping to find a way to start getting up earlier.

I'd been dreaming I was escaping from Sweeney Todd around 7:30 this morning. He was brandishing a butcher knife at me and wearing a flowery apron, and it was clear from his smug grin that he thought the apron was ever-so-adorably ironic. I scrambled down the side of the building and had halfway woken up when a sliding crash and scurry in the kitchen brought the cat flying into my room in hot pursuit of what I was fervently hoping was nothing. I rolled over and though the light was dim and my nearsightedness makes the world look like it's underwater, it was clear she had a mouse in her mouth.

I know cats aren't known for their kindness and efficiency in killing small creatures, but this was ridiculous. She chased it around the room for ten minutes, and every time I thought she was about to show a little mercy and finish the little guy off, they'd stop and stare each other in the eye for a while, and then start the pursuit all over again. My barely-awake instinct was to wait for her to deal with the situation so I wouldn't have to. We shouldn't have mice. We are clean women. I wanted no part in touching anything skittery and wild.

But then I saw its face. The poor little guy was round and gray and the same size as the cat's tiny fabric "mouse" toys. She seemed to think he was just a much cooler version of the toy, but what I saw was round floweret ears, twitching whiskers, and a nose like a shiny, black bead. His sides were heaving from his racing heart as he calmly stepped into the cup I held out for him. I didn't want to take him out into the snow, but I couldn't just let him live in our house. The pale, early morning sky reflected weak blue light onto the four inches of freshly fallen snow as I crept across the street in my long red coat to release him in some bushes across the street. They still had some thick clumps of leaves at the bottom where my mouse might find a little comfort as he drifted off to sleep. I gently set the cup down to let him walk out. He crouched in front of the bush, surveying his fate, and I apologized as best I could as I left him there, staring.

Labels: memoir

posted by Leah @ 9:41 AM