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The Death of a Mouse in Five Acts
Act 1: In Which Our Hero Makes His Appearance. A few days ago, Marie and I were grocery shopping in Safeway when we saw a stuffed mouse, all dressed up for Christmas, incongruously standing behind the bananas in the produce department. The thing was tall (standing on the floor, it came up to my kneecap) and it was a steal for $9.74.
As you see in the photo, this was a fine, jaunty mouse, looking more like Topo Gigio than Mickey the Mouse. He had little reindeer woven into its winter coat, which was trimmed in fur. A pair of gloves, a scarf, and a perky Santa hat completed his ensemble. Though the mouse probably originated in the mind of a Chinese entrepreneur and then sewn together by the dexterous hands of Chinese maidens, the little rodent looked like something that might have come straight out of a quaint little shop in Santa Claus, Indiana. Those Chinese know us.
Act II: In Which the Villain Arrives on the Scene. 
Bob the dog thinks that anything that comes into the house that looks like a dog toy is his. So he sat under it for hours, looking up and whimpering for us to take it down and give it to him.
We knew that if we let him have the mouse, Bob would destroy it within minutes. This was our Christmas decoration. So we resisted. But after hours of listening to Bob’s pathetic moaning, we couldn’t take it any longer, so we drove back to Safeway and bought another mouse, this one just for Bob.
(You probably also think we’re pampering our dog, that we’re canine enablers! But that couldn’t possibly be true. You see, there is a precise correlation between owners who spoil their dogs and owners who give their dogs cutesy nicknames. We would never do that. We don’t even call Bob our fur baby — though we’re sorely tempted.)
Act III: In Which Bob’s Normally Suppressed Canine Instincts Come Alive. When we got home with the mouse, Bob jumped up and down, pawed the rug, and circled three times in a frenzy. We asked forgiveness of the mouse and then threw him into the den with the Bobster.
Bob pounced on that mouse like a lion on a gazelle. Within minutes, the mouse was on his back being eviscerated. The poor thing still has a smile on his face. Those Chinese seamstresses would have cried if they could see what you see below.
After an hour or so, here’s Mr. Bob with the scattered remains of the mouse’s cotton entrails. Bob seems to have a “Did I do OK?” look on his face.
Act IV: Mouse Resurrection. To the right, here’s what the poor mouse looked like after we had stuffed most of his innards back in. Parts of him have gone missing. He is now sans eyes, sans ears, and sans arms. His tail has been dismembered.
Marie will gather up the parts and resurrect the mouse by sewing the poor thing together. His resurrected form, seen to the left, however, is missing his eyes, one arm, one leg, one ear, half his suit, and a tail. We don’t know where those parts went to. Marie probably thought it futile to sew the tail back on.
Mr. Bob will play with the mouse for a while, listlessly tearing off an appendage every now and then (which Marie dutifully sews back on), but the thrill is largely gone. The mouse will slowly sink down to the bottom of the toy box and spend his remaining days a pathetic and forgotten thing.
Act V: Denouement. Before the mouse came into the house, Bob had destroyed toys galore. We thought we had learned our lesson — no more dog toys unless they’re made of indestructible rubber. But the Bobber made such a pathetic picture as he sat there longing for the mouse that we folded like a cheap lawn chair. We’ll probably fold again in the future. We’re eminently foldable when it comes to the Bobster.
Published in General
As long as it was done ritualistically, it’s OK.
(That is intended as a sarcastic commentary on the way some historians write.)
@kentforrester seems like a mild-mannered English professor (He even drives an old Prius). But behind that genial facade is a raiser of vicious killer animals. :)
SIMC (snorted in my coffee)
What a fantastic tale! Simply wonderful! As is Bob… Also his keepers…
Thanks Cow Girl. Very nice of you to say that.
We had a shelter dog – Mosby – that could demolish any dog toy in minutes. He particularly liked the squeaky ones.
Our other shelter dog -Scruffy the wonder dog – was completely different. At one point, we had him with three female deerhounds who were ‘intact’ (if you are showing dogs, they need to be able to be bred). As a shelter dog, Scruffy was ‘fixed’ ( violating the theory : If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it).
Anyway if any one of the girls was in season, Scruffy would start nesting with all of the available dog toys like he was building a safe place for a puppy.
Its not that he was a wimp dog, we’ve seen him kill rats and several groundhogs with a single bite. But he was very protective of his pack.
P.S. Having one dog vs having a pack is a totally different thing. I recommend having a pack highly if you can manage it.
So is he over the mouse up on the shelf?
That nose could give Rudolph a run for his money –
Cat, yes. Once he got to tear up one of his own, he no longer yearns for the first one we brought home.
Great story. Bob obviously has the two of you well trained.
Our cats have put all their toys in the water dish one time or another. Don’t know why . . .
You’ve never seen Ava from Justified:
Stad, this popular culture reference has gone right over my head. (Have you ever noticed that there is a soupçon of superiority that is projected when one says that he doesn’t recognize a reference to popular culture? Also, have you noticed that the same thing occurs when one uses the fancy word “soupçon’? Have you noticed that when one calls attention to these matters, one comes across as pretentious?)
Individually the Bob photo, Prius, and Oregon plate all push the boundaries of good taste. All of them together just may be going too far ;)
By the way, you haven’t yet told us what Bob thinks of your Peloton. Does he chase it?
I thought of The Bobster when I saw this article in the Daily Mail this morning: Britain’s naughtiest dog who has destroyed eight sofas and cost his owner £9,000 in damage is diagnosed as ‘attention-seeker’ by canine expert.
Perhaps you should have him evaluated. You know, show you care, and all that.
Here is ‘Cooper’ with what’s left of one of his victims:
Jeez, what a pest. You’d have to love your dog a whole lot to keep him around after he had destroyed a sofa or two.
+1 for the Topo Gigio reference