Trapped

Once upon a time, when I was a little girl (And by little girl I mean a sophomore in high school) I got up very very early in the morning to practice the piano.  I would get up, get ready, eat breakfast, and then practice piano. Because by 6:30 my entire family was also awake so I could practice without disturbing them.

At this time in my life, we also had a mouse problem.  As in, there was a mouse living in our kitchen.

Disgusting.

One particular morning, I went downstairs to eat my breakfast.  And there was a mouse stuck to the sticky mouse trap. And, it was using its front paws to pull itself across the floor.

Seriously. Only its back paws were stuck to the trap and it was scooting across the floor (very slowly) using only its front paws.

Imagine that for a second. It’s like it was rowing a boat or something. I didn’t even know that mice were capable of that much synchronized movement.

When I saw it, I gasped. (I’m not much of a screamer.) I ran up the stairs (noisily, I’m sure) to alert my dad–the chief mouse hunter.

Now, whenever I need a good laugh, I think back to the image of that mouse pulling itself across the floor.

How inhumane of me.

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