Snickers started it all. Every time he'd go out he'd make a bee-line directly to the window well at the back of our house where he'd stand and stare...stare and stand. Occasionally he'd lift his front left paw and cock his head. He'd always have a string of spit hanging down from his lip as he'd sit, ears pricked, head cocked and whining at the window well.
Curious, I finally sauntered over to the window one morning and that's when I discovered we have a little field mouse (or shrew, I'm still not sure) hunkered down at the bottom of the well.
The one whom I adore and I have an unstated deal. I will take care of most things inside the house related to the maintenance, cleaning and cooking while he gets domain over the great outdoors... mowing, shoveling, trimming of hedges, etc.
It hasn't always been this way. We didn't used to have such a 'traditional' marital arrangement...back in our Jasper days it was equal opportunity when it came to keeping of the house and cooking of the meals. Each of us had our areas of expertise and preference and so, with equality for all, we divided the chores.
But here, on the island in the Northumberland Strait, my asthma has risen to a twenty-five year high and as such, I can no longer mow the grass. I used to enjoy riding the John Deere all over our property, over hill and dale, around trees and shrubs. It was a great way to get a tan without actually having to sit out and soak up the rays. But, given that my asthma is exacerbated by mowing of the grass, I have been forbidden to mount the JD. So, by attrition, we slowly migrated into this arrangement whereby I take care of things indoors and he does the manly stuff outside.
Which is why, when I spied the mouse seemingly stranded in our window well, the first thing I did was call the one whom I adore. "Honey, we have a MOUSE! And he's trapped in our window well! He's making Snickers crazy! Can you do something about it?"
Now, the one whom I adore is a busy guy. Not only does he have all this land to maintain, but also? He's the one with the big career down here, so understandably, getting "right on it" might not have been his first priority.
The next day both Snickers and I checked and there it was...our little buddy still at the bottom of the window well. Well. What to do...what to do? I thought he was dead, afterall, he was laying there burrowed into the dirt and not moving, with a fly crawling over his prostate little body.
"HONEY! The mouse is now dead...can you do something about it? I don't want the smell of rotting rodent permeating our windows and stinking up the house!"
This time he got right on it. But instead of disposing of a dead mouse carcass as I thought he would, he came inside with the news that the little guy wasn't dead at all - he was alive and well, albeit stuck at the bottom of the window well, and so the solution? The solution was to give the little mouse a hand up as it were. The one whom I adore took a wooden plank and constructed a mouse pedestrian walk-way so he could scale the heights of the metal well and escape. There was no food down there in the well, so if it was going to have any hope at survival, he'd take some mighty mouse initiative and climb the path to freedom.
You've heard of the road less traveled? It's a plank in our basement window well. That mouse ignored freedom's path. Instead, he just burrowed in deeper to the other side of the window well. You know the old saying "you can lead a horse to water but you can't make it drink"? It also holds true for field mice.
It was still alive yesterday morning, but surely to God with all the rain, he was cold and hungry... but probably not thirsty.
Now, I'm all for saving animals and such, but if a mouse sets up shop in my window well, whether by accident or by design, I'm not about to feed the little booger, because remember last January? Yeah, some cousins and maybe an uncle or two of this mouse had set up shop in our kitchen. So, yeah, not going to help the little varmint, not me.
Last night Snicks and I did our usual check of the window well. Buddy was still there. So was his walk-way. Untouched.
I picked up the plank that was his road to freedom and gave him a tentative little poke. I did the same thing the day before and he scampered right onto the window sill while I jumped back ten feet and checked if I needed a pair of "Depends". So Saturday, he was alive and well. But not last night. Last night when I lifted the plank he did not respond when I poked him. Instead, when I poked him he rolled over on his back, stiff, with four little mouse feet sticking straight up in the air. Dead.
I really do believe he committed suicide. He may have fallen into the window well by accident, but his staying there was most certainly not. Instead of a life running the abundant fields that surround our property he chose to starve himself in a dirt hole at the bottom of a window well. We gave him ample opportunity to scale the heights of that window well and attain freedom. He chose death.
After last January's incident and yesterday's suicide the score is now Kim 2 - Mouse 0.
