|I try to remember you like this|
You aren't mangled or crushed one bit.
I only knew you for a week and a half, but it felt like years. To think I only met you that Thursday...
I was in my cosy nest, finally drifting off into Lala land...
It's important to understand that I had recently contracted Zombie Virus and the fact that I even managed to start falling asleep was a miracle. The mere act of breathing was a workout, and I was convinced I could feel spiders crawling around in my nasal cavities.
But against all odds, I was finally getting there...
|My favourite of all lands|
...And it was going peachily. Pretty much all my fantasies were about to come true. See that pink thing galloping in from the right?
|I shall name you Kenza and you shall be my pony|
But, suddenly, my dreams were interrupted, by the tiniest, tinniest, sound.
Kenza was gone.
|In a bubble of vaporised candy farts|
Why did I have to be conscious? It wasn't fair. I was so alone.
And so awake, with nothing but the disgusting crawling sensation of my own virus-infested sinuses.
|A whole fleet of these living in my boogeys|
After hours of painstaking attempts at breathing through my nostrils, I began getting sleepy again...
At last! Candy dreams would be mine!
I was already congratulating myself in anticipation.
|How could I forget.|
But I was wrong again.
Just when it was getting to the good part, my sugar bubble was burst.
"Ames," I said to myself, "Either you have fluid in your inner ear, or your room is haunted, or there is a mouse in here"
I'm not going to go into detail of the rest of the personal discussion I had with myself that night (it was personal), but I will say that I decided it was just me, with my zombie virus hallucinations at full wop.
I was upset that the mouse had told me to go screw myself, but decided to languish in my bed with the spiders instead of trying to do something about it.
I laid 2 traps.
I laid 2 more traps. That makes 4 traps.
Four traps loaded with fragrant temptations such as almonds, peanut butter, walnuts and extra tasty cheese. I was jealous.
Four traps under my bed.
Four traps to potentially snap my toes.
I considered leaving a note for him under the bed.
...An approach involving Ninja.
I crawled out of bed in the darkness, trying to breathe silently, or at least in a way that didn't sound like I was dying.
I felt raw and pumped with pure killing-machine energy and performed a few stunts in my pyjamas:
|Mainly to show off|
I then honed down on the direction the noise seemed to be coming from.
But I am human and humans can't see in the dark. And this made me feel quite ashamed and pathetic because I sensed that Tittles was watching me, but I couldn't see him.
|He's right there somewhere...|
I flicked on the lights and caught sight of him playing musical-statues under the bed. Blatantly. He stared me down with his right eye and I got the feeling he had some ninja moves of his own.
|I may have imagined the nunchucks|
He was too darn smart and unafraid.
I didn't know how to get him from not-under the bed, so positioned a few traps around him.
There was no chance he could get out alive.
I searched eagerly for his corpse.
All I found were empty traps with the food nibbled off.
|And some pellets|
This was not right! At all!
I had 2 types of traps, 4 flavours of bait, and all the mass and cunning of a full-size human.
It was humbling...... and enlightening....the strangest thing started to happen....
R.E.S.P.E.C.T (just a little bit)
These emotions were ridiculous. I was a lean mean mouse-crushing machine. Respect shouldn't be in my vocabulary. Surely I was just overtired.
I didn't care if it was wrong.
I didn't care if the little turd was holding me hostage, night after night.
I didn't care that I was becoming more, and more, and more exhausted.
All I cared about was that little Tommy Tittle Mouse.
I wondered if I should remove the traps.
We could be room-mates?
|I should never have named him|
He was just so clever!
I was just like a first-time mother with an ugly baby.
|"oh Tommy you are the pet I never had"|
Have you ever had Stockholm Syndrome? From vermin?
I can be your claim to fame.
|Ah Tommy your night-noises are so familiar now|
|It's as if I've always known you.|
I don't have the heart to finish this post.
UPDATE: We buried him in the wheely bin. He was good mouse. So smart. :(
UPDATE 2: I found your cousin, Tommy. Can you hear me from the other side? He was sitting on the carpet dead-still and I went and picked him up with a paper towel and he just snuggled into my hand and closed him eyes like a sleepy little bear and it was SOOO CUTE!!!
And then Dad said "Flush it down the toilet!"
And I said "NO!"
And placed him carefully at the bottom of the (now empty) wheely bin. He will be happy there until he moves into his new place at the rubbish dump. I feel like we really bonded.