| Mar. 31st, 2008 @ 11:59 pm Weirdness and stuff |
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So, last Tuesday I bought a mouse to feed to Naga, my ball python.
I bought it early in the day and put it in the container I usually feed Naga in. Normally I do this, and then when night is falling, I put Naga in the container to eat (ball pythons, being nocturnal, like to eat right around sunset or sunrise).
So, I'm sitting at my computer, working on a paper, and I hear a noise. Hmmmm......
I look over and the mouse that I bought is having a stroke or something. It's lying on its side, twitching. Naturally, this was a what the fuck? moment.
Great. Naga won't eat dead mice. She insists on killing her meals herself.
So, since I had to go to Office Depot with my wife later anyhow (she needed some supplies for work), I put the dead mouse back in its box and waited for her to get home from work.
She gets home and I explain to her that while we are out, we need to make a stop at the pet store to exchange the mouse corpse for a live one. Okay, no big deal.
So, we go to Office Depot, she gets her work supplies, and then we stop at the pet store.
I explain the situation to the clerk (a young girl of maybe 19 or 20) and exchange the mouse. As my wife and I are waiting for someone to bring the mouse up front from the back room where they keep their feeder mice, the clerk starts telling us a story about "an older woman" who witnessed the feeding of the snakes one day and became extremely distraught. Of course, being as I'm pretty inured to the killing of vermin, I had a chuckle.
As we got into the car and were driving away, my wife says to me, "What did that little bitch mean, 'older than you?'"
"What?" I reply.
"When she was telling her story, she said the woman was older, and then she looked at me and said 'older than you.'"
"Oh. I honestly didn't even notice."
"I did."
Of course she did. Now, my wife is only 29, and not old at all, but I suppose to a girl about 10 years her junior, this seemed like a perfectly normal thing to say.
She should probably watch that in the future. If she said that to someone of a less forgiving nature than my wife, she might get her eyes scratched out. Women can be sensitive about age.
Anyhow....
On the way home, I'm talking about the first mouse and its mousey stroke, and how weird it all was.
My wife says, "Maybe it was a heart attack."
"I suppose it could have been. Why?"
"Maybe Naga scared it to death."
"No, Naga was still in her tank. The mouse was all by itself in the container. It just flopped over and started twitching."
"Maybe it knew what was in store for it."
"Somehow, I doubt that."
"Yeah," my wife said, "maybe it was like Finding Nemo, but with mice. Only his name was Bud. And all the mice told Bud what was in store for him, and he knew. And Bud's dad came to the pet store looking for him, but it was too late. And then he followed him to our house, only to find out his son was dead. Died of a heart attack. And Bud's distraught father, in a fit of depression, threw himself into traffic and ended his own life because without his son, he had nothing to live for."
"Uhhhmmm.... so..... sort of like Disney, but darker?"
"Something like that."
"You're weird."
"It's entirely your influence."
I couldn't argue with that. It probably was.
So, I got the mouse home and put Naga in the container with it.
And nothing.
She wouldn't eat the damned thing.
So, I put her back in her tank, and put some food and water in the container so the mouse wouldn't die, and some paper towel to soak up any mouse mess (and for it to use as bedding) and since Tuesday night I have been trying to get Naga to eat this mouse. For almost a week, it's been the same thing: I put Naga in the container for a couple hours, she doesn't touch the mouse, I put her back in her tank, feed and water the mouse, then go to bed.
Tonight, after almost a week, she finally ate the fucking mouse.
I was getting tired of taking care of that little bastard. |
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