By Jim Hagarty
2017
So I was asked to look after a pet mouse.
A couple of things wrong there for a boy who grew up on a farm. Back then, when my Dad told me to look after an animal, we both knew exactly what that meant, especially if the creature in question had rodentiary qualities.
The other problem arises with the word “pet” in such close proximity to the word “mouse”. On the farm, we didn’t really have pets. We would have a dozen or so cats at any given time but they weren’t allowed in the house and you couldn’t catch half of them. And they had a very important job to do which was to keep the mouse population down. They were the original experts at looking after the mice.
We did have a dog from time to time but even they never saw the inside of our home.
Among the only other animals to befriend were the raccoons and we were strictly forbidden to do that because those suckers could mess up a kid badly if they took a notion. We were all repeatedly warned that raccoons are members of the wolverine family. And wolverines are mean as hell.
That left our cattle and while it is possible to make a pet out of a steer (a neutered bull), it was not advisable. Not because those guys were nasty; just the opposite. They could be very friendly. The trouble was, when a thousand-pound animal decides he wants to play with you, he can squash you like a bug, as he is unaware of the power differential.
So word from Dad was that we were not to be too friendly with the livestock. The other issue was, cattle are very curious, kind of like cats and pigs. And if they see a boy walking across a field, a hundred of them might decide to stampede in your direction. They mean you no harm just in the same way I never mean to step on an ant as I am strolling down a sidewalk. But any caution they might normally exercise, they abandon in the middle of a stampede.
But times change and here I am looking after a pet mouse. His name is Mendel and I have to admit, he’s darned cute. However, here is how far the farm is in my rear-view mirror now. Mendel is kept in his cage in the bathtub in the upstairs bathroom, the door to which is closed to prevent our cats from wandering in and giving the wee rodent a backrub with their claws.
So here are my worries lately. I worry about Mendel being lonely, cut off as he is from all the other beings who populate the house. So I go into the bathroom now and then to chat him up. He seems to like it. But I never really stop worrying about his mental state. I don’t know what my Dad would say if he were here today and I told him I was worried about how lonely the mouse we are keeping in our bathtub might be. Among the worries my Dad had over his lifetime, especially trying to feed and clothe a family of seven kids, the quality of life of the mice that roamed our property was not one of them.
The other thing that is a concern to me about Mendel is the darkness into which the bathroom is plunged when the sun goes down. I hope the wee guy doesn’t get scared. So, a small lamp has been placed on the back of the toilet to brighten up his atmosphere. I also keep the heat in the house turned up as it can get a bit chilly in the bathroom when the door is closed.
If I was to break all this news to him, my Dad would surely disown me. To find out that his son, who he raised as well as he could, now spends a part of his days concerned about the emotional well-being of a mouse would be too much for him.
So I think I would try to keep it from him that for a few weeks over the Christmas holidays, we were also blessed with two rats to care for. I didn’t fret very much about these two guys who stand as tall as beer bottles, however, as they had each other for company and warmth.
One of the things I have left behind me over the years is the notion that humans are the ultimate in creation. I tend to think of us now as all part of the hodge podge of all creatures great and small.
Mendel and I don’t have a lot in common, it would seem, except maybe for our will to live.
And perhaps that is enough reason to care.
