I Saved A Life Today

Hero: a person who is admired or idealized for courage, outstanding achievements, or noble qualities

I awoke this morning to a cry for help from the universe. As I ventured my way to the bathroom, I was greeted with an unexpected visitor. Peering back at me from the depths of our porcelain bowl was a fuzzy, little visitor.

Many are incredibly alarmed by the presence of a mouse, but I find them particularly adorable. My little friend was petrified when I opened the toilet lid – the sign of light is typically a surefire sign of death for his breed. I could see the fear in his small beady eyes (and also from the fact that he was violently shaking). I knew I had to save him.

I returned to the scene with an empty Chipotle water cup and a lid. When I put the cup down in front of him, hoping the mouse would scurry in, I was troubled with the result. He quickly swam to the other side of the toilet water and began trying to scale the toilet bowl. Each time he tried to get up, he slid right back down – it looked like the makers of Slip N Slide designed an American Ninja Warrior obstacle.

The mouse eventually gained some faith in me (was forced) and crawled into the cup. I put the lid on the cup and set it down briefly. I opened the fridge, looking for some type of treat to give the mouse after he was free. I saw some carrots and grabbed one. It was a little bit dusty - you know how carrots get when they’re kind of old and dry – but I figured a mouse wouldn’t care.

I opened my roommate’s window and placed the parts in a fashion that would encourage the mouse to get out safely onto the fire escape. I placed the carrot at the mouth of the cup in hopes that the petrified fuzzball would forget all about his troubles at the sight of a carrot and sprint to freedom.

It turns out my setup wasn’t as appealing as I anticipated. It seemed that the mouse was genetically predetermined to be on the lookout for traps, and a carrot and a light at the end of the tunnel seemed too good to be true. To be fair, if I was on the brink of death and someone offered me a carrot, I would definitely turn it down, too. I knew I needed to sweeten the deal – I went back to the fridge and got some cheese, Monterey Jack to be exact. Surely the mouse would come out for some cheese.

...Are we sure that mice actually like cheese?? Once I laid it out there, it occurred to me that that might be something that someone came up with for cartoons 100 years ago that we’ve all accepted as truth without considering mice’s pallets. The mouse didn’t budge - maybe he was lactose intolerant. I figured it would take a few minutes for the mouse to recover before he relaxed and got his sweet dessert, so I left my camera on the scene and went to brush my teeth.

Upon my return, I came back to a horrifying scene. The cup that my friend was in had moved to the edge of the fire escape, but the food was untouched. I was instantly in a panic. In my attempt to extend this precious creature’s life, I accidentally left him on a ledge in a cup where the wind blew and made him fall to a 4-story death. My eyes mimicked the same innocent, hopeless look that the mouse’s had when I first found him. I reached out to the cup – it felt light – and started to bring it back in.

HE WAS ALRIGHT! After reviewing the film, it appears that the little guy moved too quickly and the cup rolled out onto the fire escape.

Also, he came up and took a little nibble of cheese, so I guess my theory is debunked.

I knew that another close call like this might not result in such luck, so it was time to get him on his feet. I gently encouraged the mouse to step out onto the ledge (essentially just tipped the cup over), and he found the light. He immediately ran away from the food and out of sight.

I had done it. The little guy was saved. It would be unfair to call myself a hero, but I’m not sure what other word would apply. The mouse was free to roam outside of my building and enjoy the rest of his life (or fall off the fire escape and die in a matter of minutes) and I could finally go to the bathroom without company.

Oh, and now that I’m writing this I’m realizing that I should probably go clean the melted cheese and carrot off of my roommate’s window sill.