The mouse

My last cat liked to play with mice. She wouldn’t kill them. She’d throw them… as if a toy. I’m a city girl… this isn’t my forte.

My husband was out with friends when I discovered a mouse (I stepped on it. Ugh!). It was barely alive. Couldn’t even crawl. I freaked out and called my husband in a panic. As if could do something over the phone. I called several people because I didn’t know what to do. It’s silly in retrospect but it was an awful experience.

Lately, I feel like that mouse. It didn’t kill me. But it injured me and it left me unable. I had two choices… Kill it or leave it tortured in pain. I am sad that I had to kill it. It’s not easy to accept. I don’t kill bugs. It was hard.

I am in a lot of pain. I’m not sure if I’m overreacting but this is how I feel. Injured, tortured and left struggling.

My cat was a good cat, btw. It was probably my fault for giving her toy mice!

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