Carol et al
©2008 Celeste Billhartz
I’m a simple woman. I live a simple life, apart from the hustle and bustle of work and family. I live alone, have no pets … well, I have the mouse who lives with me. She’s in my basement, in a box. I know she lives there because I have found … her … you know … droppings. Or, as I describe her … "my little shit machine.”
I have always lived with a mouse. First there was Carol … I named her for Carol Burnett … remember her? At the end of each tv show, she tugged at her ear – as a signal to her daughter.
My “Carol” had an ear that looked like somebody took a bite out of it and it was a tad larger than the other ear. I figured, well, she got the larger ear from scratching it, so much. (Humor me.)
My Carol went to the great cheese-fest-in–the-sky … I guess. I never found her remains and I don’t know how she got into the house or out of it. I just never saw another mouse with a huge, cleft ear.
I lost another mouse to my stupidity. I had set a humane trap – one of those that doesn’t snap their necks, but lures them into it with a food item then slams shut. I always took the “inmate” out to the woods, and released it. I just didn’t want any more “shit machines” in my house. But, I forgot I had set the trap under my dining room table, and by the time I noticed that the trap door had closed, the little visitor was … dead … starved to death … by my negligence.
I blessed the mouse and took it out to the woods and placed it in a clearing … so a hungry falcon or owl could find a meal.
I’d have a cat if I were not allergic to animals. Cats suit me more than dogs. I am not of the generous and spontaneous spirit dogs require. I am solitary, predictable and cranky, given to bouts of regret that are best soothed by steady purring rather than effusive, sloppy kisses.
That probably sums up my unsuitability for marriage, etc., too …J