Now, more than ever, we need your offers of prayers and support. Not for me, or Kid, or anyone else here in the house. It’s someone outside. A mouse.
Odd, random things always seem to happen the few times I get away. When I checked in by phone last night to see what DH was doing, he said:
“Oh, I’m just trying to keep this little, baby mouse alive.”
You what??
“Well, I have him on oxygen right now, but I’m not sure he’s going to make it.”
There’s a mouse on oxygen at my house?
Picture a little emergency room, tiny scrubs, miniature face mask, a regular rodent ICU.
No. It seems that Becca, normally LTK, had finally discovered something: baby mice by the house. I’m told she brought one out and, in a move similar to actual hunting dog behavior (which shocked us all), set it down on the ground. Did not eat it, de-limb it or the shake the little mouse life out of it. Well, that one mouse ultimately did not make it, but DH went outside later, worried about other abandoned baby mice, and found another.
This from the guy rallying to bomb the garage with agent orange to knock off all mice in a ten mile radius after they ate through a sleeping bag and backpack. I guess this baby mouse through its circumstances had become the underdog, and as I’ve written before, DH is all about the underdog.
He administered first aid. He offered water and cheese (OK, he’s not a rodent specialist). He carefully set up a little mouse habitat in a metal bucket.
And the little fur ball actually made it through the night. Then we debated about taking it to the West Sound Wildlife Shelter. Suddenly, DH got possessive.
“What do they have there that we don’t have?” Ummmm, a vet??
I took the little guy in. He was assigned a number and taken to an incubator. Mouse 464.
DH is a mystery. He didn’t see Ratatouille, so this was not Disney-related. His loyalties to the animal kingdom change with circumstances. All I can figure is underdoggedness makes strange bedfellows, and strange patients. In my house. In a bucket.
Please keep Mouse 464 in your thoughts and prayers.
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Great story Wendy. I wondered where the oxygen came from, then I remembered how well stocked DH keeps his garage. He really is prepared for any emergency. I admire that in a neighbor.
Yeah, DH wanted to note that he used up $50 worth of oxygen on that mouse!
He has said that we must prepare well because you know the neighbors will be needing help!!
Hahaha! That is hilarious.
He is right about us needing help. Unlike the little red hen we don’t put away food or grain for the winter.
Speaking of fowl (or foul depending on your point of view), that damn rooster was at it again this weekend. Does it belong to someone that I can accost or is it ferrel?
Really loved the visions that you created!! You must write that kid’s book with all the stories you have accumulated in just these months. The pictures to go with the little mouse are too-oo-oo much.
The only experience I have with baby mice is when I was little, my dad noticed a litter of baby mice in a bag of grass seed that was in the garage. He said to my sister and me, “Go get the cat.” Needless to say, the rest of the story wouldn’t be optioned by Disney.
Sheri, I’m not sure about that rooster. I heard him yesterday, too, but not early in the am.
GL, hmmm, DH could have his own series in children’s books….
Scott, did you watch the slaughter? That would explain a lot.
Well, slaughter isn’t quite the right word. Kitty just popped them into her mouth like they were chicken McNuggets.
So, not slaughter, as much as lunch.
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