Tuesday, May 31, 2005

The Old Girl redux

Fancy mice are also fragile mice.

Belle has developed what appears to be a tumor between the left side of her jawbone and her left shoulder. It became noticeable around May 19 and it has grown some since then. Treatment for this tumor is possible. But, treatment may not be practical.

Belle is now a little over a year old and has always been a bit on the fragile side. But, Belle has also always been frisky and playful. A while back we suspected she may have had a stoke.

Monday, May 30, 2005


I think I can forgive you for not being with me...

Tuesday, May 24, 2005

Missing My Mouse Syndrome

I have been away from my Mouse for over three days now and I do miss him so. Even though I know that he and the other mice and the budgie are being well cared for I do worry. Just thinking about him cuddled up in the palm of my hand makes me weepy. I miss just sitting with him for seemingly long periods of time, looking at him as he looks up at me and talking with him. I miss checking in on him in the mornings and the evenings and giving him his treats.

Wednesday, May 18, 2005

Every day is a reminder

Every day is a reminder on how little time we all may have left.

Mabel is starting to show his age. These days Mabel snuggles more and more. Our daily ritual has transformed into me putting my hand into his home two or more times a day, Mabel crawls out of his nest and hops into my hand. Mabel will fuss for a few seconds and then snuggle into the palm of my hand, often sleeping 15 minutes or longer, depending on his mood. After his naps(s)I put him back in his home and offer him a treat and then he goes back into his nest. But, sometimes he immediately demands that I take him back out after he eats and it is very hard to say no to him.

Thursday, May 12, 2005

Giving Comfort

Mamma-Mouse, otherwise known as Pudd'n, has her bad days, too.
Pudd'n has seizure like symptoms, going into little full-body fits where it appears she has is laboring to breath. It is pathetic and heartbreaking. I have managed to pick her up during her fits and comfort her during them. She will often tuck herself in and go to sleep after the fits and after a bit she will sit up, acting surprised and annoyed and often demanding treats.

Sunday, May 08, 2005


Another cute story from a member of one of my mouse lists...
Stu will be a year old in July and is held for at least an hour EVERY day (he also rides around in my sleeves) and I'm actually the one who has to put him back so I can go out. If it were up to him he'd cuddle all day...in fact, if he hears the cage lid open before he's ready to go back, he'll suddenly be "sleeping" on his back (since it's so cute I can't resist it and he's figured out that it's a good way to extend his belly rubs). Or, if he's obviously awake he might start grooming my hand, which he gets more praise for.

While I was raising him I would carry him around for hours at a time (or in my sleeve as he got older) - he spent much more time with me than he did alone - and that's where he seems to be happiest - I can go about what I'm doing, tidying up, watching TV, whatever, and he'll still be fast asleep. Sort of like the way taking a baby for a ride in the car often helps put it to sleep.

Friday, May 06, 2005

Having a bad day...

Little brown mouse Harriet was having a bad day.

She and her mother, Pudd'n, have been having seizure-like fits. In Harriet's case she simply shuts down and goes into her own little world, looking as if she is depressed and forlorn. The times I have found her like this I scoop her up in my hand and cuddle her until she perks up. When she does perk up she usually demands a treat. And then she is all happy and wanting to play, running up and down my arms.

Addendum: While holding little Harriet Trish came up to pet her. Trish walked across the room to us had band built up an electro-static charge. Trish reached down to rub her finger tip between Harriet's ears when *SNAP*JOLT*EEEEEEK!* Little Harriet let out a pathetic yelp and sat right up, cleaning the spot where the offending spark had made contact with her. Harriet seemed to literally come back to life after her little electrocution.

Thursday, May 05, 2005

"I was born," the Mouse said.

"I was born," the Mouse said. "I must die. I am suffering. Help me.
There, I just wrote your book for you."

--Samuel Delany, _Nova._


I endured the interminable tarot card readings, and discovered many gems. Two are presented here:

Katin shook the nets again. ''From star to star, Mouse; imagine, a great web that spreads across the galaxy, as far as man. That's the matrix in which history happens today. Don't you see? That's it. That's my theory. Each individual is a junction in that net, and the strands between are the cultural, the economic, the psychological threads that hold individual to individual. Any historical event is like a ripple in the net.'' He rattled the links again. ''It passes over and through the web, stretching and shrinking those cultural bonds that involve each man with each man. If the event is catastrophic enough, the bonds break. The net is torn a while. De Eiling and 34-Alvin are only arguing where the ripples start and how fast they travel. But their overall view is the same, you see. I want to catch the throw and scope of this web in my ... my novel, Mouse. I want it to spread about the whole web. But I have to find that central subject, that great event which shakes history and makes the links strike and glitter for me. A moon Mouse; to reitre to some beautiful rock, my art perfected, to contemplate the flow an dshift of the net; that's what I want, Mouse. But the subject won't come!''

The Mouse was sitting on the floor, looking in the bottom of the sack for a control knob that had come off the syrynx. ''Why don't you write about yourself?''

''Oh, that's a fine idea! Who would read it? You?''

The Mouse found the knob and put it back on its stem. ''I don't think I could read anything as long as a novel.''

''But if the subject were, say, the clash between two great families like Prince's and the captain's, wouldn't you at least want to?''

''How many notes have you made on this book?'' The Mouse chanced a tentative light through the hangar.

''Not a tenth as many as I need. Even though it's doomed as an obsolete museum reliquary, it will be jeweled'' --he swung back on the nets -- ''crafted'' -- the links roared; his voice rose -- ''a meticulous work; perfect!''

''I was born,'' the Mouse said. ''I must die. I am suffering. Help me. There, I just wrote your book for you.''

Katin looked at his big, weak fingers against the mail. After a while he said, ''Mouse, sometimes you make me want to cry.''


...When I play I'm up there, see, I'm with the tightrope walkers, balancing on that blaxing rim of crazy where my mind still works. I dance in the fire. When I play, I lead all the other dancers where you, and you ''--the Mouse pointed out people passing--'' an him and her, can't get without my help. Captain, back three years ago, when I was fifteen in Athens, I remember one morning up on that roof. I was leaning on the frame of the grape arbor with shiny grape leaves on my cheek and the lights of the city going out under the dawn, and the dancing had stopped, and two girls were making out in a red blanket back under the iron table. And suddenly I ask myself, 'What am I doing here?' Then I asked it again: 'What am I doing here?' Then it got like a tume caught in my head, playing through again and again. I was scared, Captain. I was excited and happy and scared to death, and I bet I was grinning as wide as I'm grinning now. That's how I run, Captain. I haven't got the voice to sing or shout it. But I play my harp, don't I? And what am I doing now, Captain? Climbing another street of stone steps world away, dawn then, night now, happy and scared as the devil. What am I doing here? Yeah! What am I doing?''

''You're rapping, Mouse....''