One evening before I left for Italy, we discovered a baby field mouse in our house. It had apparently entered through the back door along with our cat and dog. My daughter Alix was awakened by our cat making sounds she’d never heard before and realized Smokey was chasing and batting around this baby mouse. Of course, Alix woke me up to resolve the situation. With gloves and a towel, I tried to catch the mouse so that we could put her back outside. She slipped through my hands and took refuge behind our couch. For the next half hour we tried to locate her. Had anyone been an observer to this midnight event, I’m sure they would have laughed hysterically.
We didn’t find the mouse that night and finally went back to bed. Before going off to bed though we did put out a mouse catcher with food in it. We hoped she’d find her way to the food and then be safe until we could put her back outside in the morning. We also locked our cat in the laundry room so that we wouldn’t find a disaster in the morning. Need I say more?
The following night was a replay of the previous one but on an even grander scale. My daughters Alix and Frankie were awakened because the mouse–along with our cat–were running between their bedrooms. The girls woke me and of course once again we tried to catch the mouse. And, once again, she eluded us. The three of us finally slept in our basement–the girls had no desire to return to their bedrooms and I promised to stay with them for the remainder of the night.
In the morning, our cat once again flushed out the mouse and began playing with her. What Smokey would have ultimately done we will never know (and I’d prefer not to really think about it). My husband came to the rescue with a towel, scooped up the baby mouse and released her in the field behind our home. We all felt wonderful knowing the mouse lived and we could return to quieter nights with less excitement (and more sleep).
What I realize as I tell this story is how much I’ve changed. I grew up in a home where we didn’t have pets–except for a hamster we had for a brief time. Animals were meant to be outside and away from the house, living on ranches or open space. And undomesticated animals and creatures, such as mice, were not only unwanted–they were feared and even loathed. My parents used contraptions and chemicals to get rid of any unwanted pests in our house or yard.
As a young independent adult, I came to love animals in ways I never had the opportunity to experience as a child. My first pet as an adult was a dog. Since then, I and my family have had cats, dogs, birds, fish, and other critters we’ve regarded as additional members of our family. In most of my adult life, though, I still regarded pests and insects in much the same way as my parents did, never really giving much thought to the creatures I considered to be a nuisance in my life or to what I was using to get rid of them.
My first exposure to living with a different mindset came through my daughter Alix. She would carefully trap and return to the outdoors every spider, crawling and/or flying insect found in our home. My other opportunity to view life through a different lens came via a friend of mine who is Buddhist. I saw how in her home she found creative ways to divert the ants back outside, never harming any. She even lived in peaceful coexistence with them in her house when they wouldn’t leave. What I once thought of as extreme behavior, I now understand and appreciate with a more open mind and sensitivity for the choices we each make.
I’m not saying that I’ve taken a vow to never harm or kill an insect or creature again. But I do now live more consciously, considering the impact of my actions on any creatures I’m not prepared to live with in my home. Before I act, I now consider what steps I might take and how those actions might effect both the animal and our environment. And I’ve gone from being a “mouse hater” to someone who wants to treat them “humanely.”
Just yesterday, I once again had the opportunity to deal with a house guest my cat brought home. In the morning, before anyone else was up in the house, Smokey brought in another mouse. I watched the scene as she carried it, dropped it, chased it, and caught it again. I waited for the opportune moment when I could drop my towel on the poor shaking creature (yes, I could see it shaking as it stood on its hind legs with front paws up in a protective stance) and get it back outside. My moment came. With swift, determined action, I threw down the towel, scooped up towel and mouse, and dropped the frightened thing into the field out back. Within 15 minutes, the mouse had taken off, never to be seen again–hopefully.
My daughter and my Buddhist friend can be proud of me!
