My Mouse died. I’ve lost two this week. Magic Mice in fact. One I use on the Mac Pro in my office, and the other that partners with my MacBook Pro. Mac the Knife.
I need a mouse, and yes, that is what Apple calls them. Magic Mice. But truthfully, I want a REAL Magic Mouse. The kind I tried to save when I was about 5 or 6 years old. You all know the story (for the umpteenth time). I found the little fella, injured. Probably death by cat.
But before he slipped away into the Netherland, I put him in a shoebox, and I tried so very hard to fix that mouse. I spoke to him. Gentle words. Expressions of encouragement. I knew he heard, and understood me. His little dark eyes met mine in accord. I swear, I think he even nodded once or twice.
Or…. Perhaps… he could have been convulsing.
No matter. It was magic to six-year-old me. Those moments with that mouse on Bruce Avenue. The warm summer breeze carrying my hopes to the heavens. The two of us in thoughtful communication.
Yep. And then he died. I sobbed. I can remember sitting in the grass, holding that box on my lap (Mom told me not to touch the mouse any more than I already had, because mice carry horrible plague-like germs, and I could die a horrible death before I was seven.). So yeah. Box on lap. Check.
Dang it. No matter once again.
I was certain I could communicate with animals and they would fully understand. And 50 years later, that thought has stuck with me. Granted, I am not one of those people who trek up to Canada, and tries to have a one-on-one with the Northern Rocky Grizzly Bears. Nope. Typically, those folks get mauled to death. In which case, my Mom was sort of right about touching unknown animals. You just can’t reason with Bears, I don’t think. Not even Dancing Bears. Those Dancing Bears might be the worse, especially Bruno, who would NOT wear a pink tutu EVER.
No matter, I say to that. I keep drifting from my Magic Mice.
I know they are true. We had a cat named Felix once. He had a little pet mouse here at the house. Felix shared his cat food and water bowl with that mouse, and followed the little mouse up and down the stairs. So sweet. I wish I had been able to capture video.
And then there was the time when I came across a little fallen mouse near our barn. His little partner mouse had her little paws on his chest. And then she would scurry in circles around him like she wanted him to wake up. Again and again. I sobbed then too.
I’ve seen two squirrels do this too.
And then, just yesterday, a major study was released about Cows, which cited more than 200 papers from 22 major journals. It summarized findings of cow psychology, personalities, and intelligence. Those cows are thinking, emotional beings, so it said. On a sesame seed bun.
And I’ve gotten off topic again.
The bottom line is this. I just want a Magic Mouse. One with whom I can share a cheese sandwich. And talk at great lengths about the weather. On Tuesdays, at noon… .. Look for the magic in the world, and it is sure to find you.
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“To see a World in a Grain of Sand
And a Heaven in a Wild Flower,
Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand
And Eternity in an hour.”
― William Blake, Auguries of Innocence
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“The more clearly we can focus our attention on the wonders and realities of the universe about us, the less taste we shall have for destruction.”
― Rachel Carson
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“The world is full of magic things, patiently waiting for our senses to grow sharper.”
― W.B. Yeats
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