the smallest resident of lakehouse 2

We have had an abnormally gorgeous week in Grasmere; lots of sun, even a warm spell--very springy, to say the least, although apparently out of character for March. Tuesday was my day off this week, and I woke up to warmth and blue skies. I decided go on a walk (which here actually means a nature hike--lol country living) and started to walk out of my house when I heard a scruffle at my feet; I looked down and saw a brown mouse. She was not making eye contact with me, but she obviously knew I was there. She was crouching beside a hole underneath the gutter pipe, a few feet away from the front door.

I am not a rodent person. I am actually not much of an animal person, in the pet way--I find 90% of all pet store animals generally repulsive. They smell, their cages smell, there's something unnatural in keeping rats and mice or even birds and reptiles and all such animals to me. They are not really "lovely;" I suppose some aspects of them are "cute" but not in the endearing way that puppies are cute. I avoid these kinds of animals. And you would think that seeing them outside of a pet store wouldn't enhance an encounter positively. In fact, the only time I've ever seen rodents "in the wild" is when I lived in Alcala de Henares, a suburb town of Madrid, Spain. I was out one night with my roommate, and we walked by a grate on the sidewalk that seemed to be shimmering; upon closer inspection, there were dozens of rats bobbing their noses out and in of the grate. It was disgusting. We both screamed and ran away. 

So, back to the mouse by my house. It was breathing fast, but not moving. It had large black eyes and small white paws. I noticed that one of its back legs was red, possibly from swelling or bleeding. I was entranced. I felt like this was a worthy member of the house. It wasn't dirty like the city rodents, or lab-created like pet store mice. It was a perfectly normal wild animal. And so brown and soft looking...

I went back inside determined to offer it something to eat. If there was a nest under the drain pipe, there might be a family to feed. I realize that I should not be encouraging rodents to invade my house (or the kitchen, the first room they'd scurry into), but this animal was hurt and I felt like leaving it there to suffer would ruin a perfectly sunny spring day. I took out two very stale Pringles, crunched them up, and left them in front of the mouse. Not tempting at all. My poor little acquaintance seemed to be wincing in pain as she sat still, and moved only in short bursts. She sleepily winked her eyes, now only leaving them open at a squint--realizing that she couldn't get rid of me. 

I went back inside again, thoroughly distraught. I haven't cared about an animal so much ever since my dad brought home Max, his dog, when he was a puppy, and Max cried himself to sleep for a few nights. Knowing that Max gets to take Benadryl whenever he has ear infections and is acting rowdy, I decided to crush half of an Advil in a saucer, added enough cool water to fill it to the top, and took it outside. Surprisingly, when I brought the saucer to the mouse's mouth, she took a few sips. She drank for a few seconds, and then got bored. I'm not sure how much medicine she actually got, but I think the water was a nice surprise; she stuck one paw in the saucer as if to say "Yes, I do want this!" When she stopped drinking, I felt like I had done my part; but wishing I could fix the broken leg, and knowing that was impossible, I tried dripping the rest of the water on her back on the side where the injury was. That was probably completely useless... But I tried. Maybe I got rid of 1 germ. 

And then I went on my walk, after scrubbing the saucer with scalding hot tap water. I didn't see the mouse or any trace for a few days, and when I saw one of the handymen cleaning up the yard today, I thought about him wrecking a nest or finding her dead... I didn't think about it for too long. But, on my lunch break, Lauren came in and told me, "Guess what I saw an hour ago. A mouse!" She was horrified and had screamed when she realized it wasn't a frog, but I was so excited--I made her point out where she had seen it, and asked what color it was. All she says she really saw was the tale. But I hope, and believe, that the mouse made it through that horrible Tuesday and is perhaps now recovering and preparing for spring! 

Luck would have it that by yesterday, the warmth of the previous week vanished and was replaced with something a little more akin to February weather. It hasn't rained in almost two weeks now, but the gray clouds are back. I hope it rains soon. I will watch from the front desk and think about the smallest resident of Lakehouse Terrace 2, hiding beneath the drainpipe, sitting in a pile of something dry (I hope it's old flowers and pretty leaves, saved from last summer and fall), and planning a house party for her brother's family that will be coming to Townend soon.