On Mice

I had to remind myself of Wendell Berry's very nice children's story about a mouse in order to sit in my room today. This morning, a mouse ran from under my loveseat to under my radiator. They've set a glue trap (me: "Couldn't you just send someone to catch it and take it away, please?").

It was a huge mouse. But I actually don't think it was a rat, which is some consolation.

But, Berry's words came to my mind, and I even felt a little bad for the poor, presumably scared thing:

"To imagine the life and adventures of Whitefoot [the mouse], you must compress your mind to her size. Think of going about with your eyes only an inch or two from the ground ... She lived at the center of the world. This is one of the things every mouse knows. Wherever she was, she was at the center of the world. That one lives at the center of the world is the world's profoundest thought. So firmly was this thought set in Whitefoot's mind that she did not need to think it. Like humans, she lived in the little world of what she knew, for there is no other world for her to live in. But she lived at the center of her world always, and of this she had no doubt."

Boo-yah Percy. Berry is lovely. Although perhaps you'll object to his focus on the small things, rather than on the gigantic things.

Okay, so when I was googling for images to include with this post, I came across this, which is so disgusting to me, that I've given up any further search for images.