Wednesday, August 2, 2017

But... Mickey's a Mouse!

I don't hate animals.

I really don't.

I can appreciate the diversity of the creation. Animals are beautiful. From afar. From a very far. 

I know I birthed my children but sometimes I wonder just how many genes we have in common. Yesterday was one of those times. 

Sophia came running into the house yesterday, "Mom! You HAVE to come here!" 

Oh dear. 

Once I get outside she points to a rock, and says "Mom, can you lift up the rock? I think there's something under it!"

Do I have "stupid" tattooed on my forehead? No. 

"No honey, Mommy doesn't really want to pick up the rock and see what's under it. Whatever is under there is probably happy living under there."

Because probably, it's a centipede or a frog. Either way, it isn't something I'm eager to interact with. 

About 5 minutes later, Sophia comes inside and announces to my father-in-law and myself, "Heidi and I rescued a mouse!"

Please, PLEASE, let that not mean what it sounds like. 

No, it was exactly what it sounded like. When I went outside the two of them were standing over this mouse, who was laying in the grass. It did look injured; still very alive but not running away like you would expect of a field mouse who had been recently held captive by two very cute jailers. 


To add insult to injury, the dog starts stalking towards the mouse like a lion after it's prey. "STOP COPPER! NO!"

By God's good grace, Bob was over at our house during this incident. While I was in the garage frantically searching for something to somehow handle the animal, Bob picked it up by the tail and sent it over our fence to live in greener pastures. Copper sat by that spot in the fence for about 4-5 hours yesterday waiting for the mouse to wander back into the yard. 

The girls were bitterly disappointed. "It was so soft!" "No, Papa! Don't get rid of the mouse!" They informed me that they rescued it, and had intended to keep it for a pet. 

Yes. My kids found an outside, wild mouse, "rescued" it, carried it, petted it, all but named it, and were planning to keep it for a pet. We had to have a long talk about not touching, keeping, petting wild animals. These are the things I never thought I'd have to address; isn't it instinctual to not pick up wild rodents? Apparently not. *Sigh*

32 days until Chris comes home. 

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