As the title to this post indicates, I don't understand why little things sometimes really get to me. Case in point: I'm at work, starting to close things down in the shop as the clock nears 5 pm. I walk through the doorway into the shop, and catch a movement towards me on the floor just out of the corner of my eye. I happen to be in mid-stride, and as my left foot comes down, I feel something soft under my foot. I look down, and there on the concrete is a little brown mouse, maybe five inches from nose to tail. I have only crushed it enough to wound/cripple it, but not enough to kill it very quickly. It lay there shaking and struggling, so I had to put it out of its misery. So I carefully put the side of my shoe on its head (I could have eaasily covered the whole thing with my shoe, but I really did not want that kind of a mess) and tried to crush the skull as quickly as I could. As I did so, all the little legs and the tail of the mouse stuck out and tensed as the little creature passed out of this life.
Now here is where I start to lose faith in my understanding. It has been roughly an hour since this took place, and it is STILL bothering me. Why does the death of a little animal, a rodent no less, make me feel like I've done something terribly wrong? It isn't something I've never done before, so why is it such a big deal all of a sudden? I am somewhat confused about the whole situation, I must say. I guess I must be turning into a softie or something.
Well, that's my little tidbit for today. Now, naptime.
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3 comments:
Glad you're back, Ashley!
Sounds kind'a gross...what you did to that mouse. You were pretty descriptive there...
Ash, ya big teddy bear. Reminds me of the time Joe kissed your cheek at the supper table...you almost crushed him like a rodent.
Ash, I have to admit...that was pretty horrible of you. It's almost as bad as the time my dad made me hold the mouse with my foot while he crushed its head with his pliars. I am still scarred!
--Chelsie
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