This story is dedicated to Timmy, Tamale, Tonya, Timone and Talia. Though our time together was short-lived, I will always treasure our moments in my heart.

Due to an exterminator coming to rid us of our bed bug plague, I was left with the task of clearing everything out of my room. EVERYTHING. Two full days of cleaning later, my closet was finally clear, minus a nest of torn up paper and plastic bags laying underneath a wooden shoe contraption. I knew there was a rat running around my room, as the sugar glider I was taking care of for a friend constantly yapped when he should have been sleeping. I slowly moved so that I was on my knees, my eyes slowly scanning the pile for any signs of movement. I began to reach into the pile, but quickly decided I would probably scream if I found anything and it touched me. Next to me stood a long, black, metal pole of unknown purpose, which I grabbed as I stood up. This was the beginning of a tragedy.

I began to move the foliage around with my deadly weapon, not seeing anything right off the bat. However, within seconds, small bumps in the pile began to move, which led me to scream pull back quickly like a scared cat ninja. I quickly realized that I was not facing disgusting adult mice, but their tiny, adorable children.

I began to poke around again, using my phone to video the footage to send to my animal-loving friend. The pile no longer moved, but (and this fortunately was not caught on video) I noticed a small blob in the corner, which led me to exclaim, “OH MY GOSH.” I quickly messaged my animal-loving friend and my boyfriend, “I FOUND BABY MICE AND THEY’RE CUE (it was supposed to be cute. Autocorrect, how dare you fail me) AND DISGUSTING G (another misspelling due to the adrenaline running through me) WHAT DO I DO.” My animal-loving friend first asked me to take a picture, and then told me to set them free in a field so they would not die. Well, since the temperature had dropped and I knew cats would quickly catch and kill the rats, my friend then suggested for me to give them to her, despite the fact that she is currently in California. My boyfriend replied with, “Adopt them? Name one Timmy.” My friends were of no help. I then texted my father, who told me to feed them to our chickens, whom I strongly dislike. I then realized I needed to capture them no matter what, as they could not stay in my house.

To my physical advantage and emotional disadvantage, the mice were still young and blind, so they could not go far. I used a plastic Wal-Mart sack as a temporary holding cell, picking them as gently as possible with a brown napkin. Their cuteness overtook me as I felt my cold heart warming. They were young, helpless children. They would never grow up. They would never know the taste of my bed frame and stolen bird seed I fed to the sugar glider. They would never get to celebrate their children’s birthdays, or watch them grow into well-rounded, successful mouse adults.They would never even see the light of day. But I could not let them stay, as the poison from the exterminator would kill them either way. I slowly began collecting them, realizing I had accidentally killed a few of them with my metal stick. A few minutes later, I had captured Timmy, Tamale, Tonya, Timone and Talia. My heart ached as I stood in front of our back door, the small creatures squirming in their cell, cuddling for comfort. But the end was near.

I said a prayer for each mouse as I threw them to their fate. The chickens ate them in seconds, nature taking back what it had gifted and cursed unto our home. As soon as the execution had been committed, I stood in a regretful silence. I will always remember my sweet mouse children.

Rest in peace my little angels.

10/21/2015