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I think I'd probably be a different person if I didn't have my pets.

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Mouse:
Everyone here knows I have pet mice. It's my username, even. How obvious is that?

I guess everyone here also understands I identify with them, to a point. I guess a lot of people would take that to mean that I think I'm small (which I am) and paranoid (which I am) and maybe even prey (I can be). But that's not what was on my mind when I first thought of the analogy between these animals and I. There are a lot of things that people don't care to learn about mice because everybody sees them as animals that are overbred as food for other, more worthy creatures. They aren't even protected by animal welfare laws like dogs or cats. You can do whatever you want to a mouse, you can't be arrested, and no one will get mad at you for it. They might even laugh if you tease it or harm it or dangle it in front of your pet snake.

A lot of you know about my pet mouse, Morgan. He's the runty little sick thing I picked up at the pet store near me.

People generally go through hell in their lives. Everyone. It's impossible to have a perfect life, seriously, nobody does. But I assure you that you've never gone through hell quite like this mouse has. Mainly for the fact that you've never been like five inches long and lived in a 10 gallon glass tank with 20 other tough guys that were like twice your size and wanted to kick the shit out of you for the first 6 weeks of your life.

You know?

And, you've never had blood sucking creatures crawl all over every part of your body and mouth for like months at a time and had to be picked up and held down by a GIANT to get orange flavored antibiotics shoved down your throat.

Life is rough!

I took him home in a little white and red box that proclaimed, "I'M GOING HOME!" on the side with two little cardboard handles. He scampered around and generally freaked until I got him home. My intentions, when I bought him for like $1.50, were to get him home, fill up a cage with soft bedding, some paper towels and some snacks, give him water and a tube to hide in, and let him die somewhere comfortable. He deserved it, at least, because he was clearly suffering. Not breathing well, he had an enormous scab going down most of his back and onto the base of his tail so deep that I thought it would fall off. I figured I'd find him on one side of the cage and his tail on the other. It was pretty bad. He was also really lethargic. He wouldn't eat much, he wouldn't drink much, and he kept ripping his scabs open and I had to keep putting non toxic disinfectant stuff on him to keep it from getting nasty.

But, see, the thing of it is - he had totally different plans. He basically told me, "Fuck that, I don't feel like dying." And over $200 later and stuff after the $1.50 I originally purchased him with, he is napping right now in his cage on my desk inside the remnants of a cardboard tube that he decided would look a whole lot cooler if he shredded it.

See, Morgan and I are a lot alike, and I figured that from the first time I saw him. There is the obvious stuff, like I said. He IS really small. A runt, in fact, which is why the other males in his cage at the pet store decided to make short work of him. He's really nervous. He dashes away when even go to put his food bowl in his cage. He's not that tough looking, you know. He's kinda scrawny and scraggily and unimpressive. Also, he gets sick and gets infections like if he looks at something the wrong way because he's little and immuno-compromised.

But, you know what else? He's really stubborn and determined. When I had him in a wire cage he kicked out the bedding he didn't like until I switched to a softer brand. There was really no doubt in my mind that he was going to die overnight when I brought him home, either. And he's coped with being on like fifty thousand kinds of medications since he was like two months old.

You wouldn't think you had so much in common with a mouse, right?

But he doesn't feel like giving up - he never has, so I'm not going to give up on him. And I seriously think that if everybody had that attitude things would make a lot more sense for a lot of people. Jaser isn't psychotic here, people. He doesn't think the mouse talks to him. Swear to God. But I've gotten something from him anyway. And I hope everyone else understands what I'm getting at here, also. Right now, after all of that shit, and all of the shit I still have to do with him - give him antibiotics twice a day, take him to the vet like every two weeks, he is so freaking happy all the time. He runs on his wheel, he makes nests and destroys all the expensive toys I buy him.

I guess I just feel pretty lucky today. And Morgan still has his tail.

newt:
Bravo

everyone shoudl read this post IMHO

- matt

Robert:
KUDOS!  Jaser.

robert

(who, believe it or not, has listened everytime Jaser had something to say...he just keeps to himself)

frenchpat:
I am touched,

thank you.

Pat

angels4kelly:
Jaser,
I loved your post!
You have a fantastic outlook on life.
You're also very creative.
I'm going to copy & paste that post and save it.
Thank you  ;D
Love,
Kelly

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