Empathy and the Mouse

A few nights ago I was taking my dog Rufus out for his last walk of the day. In the lobby of my building I noticed a teeny tiny mouse in the corner. Looking closer it was apparent that he (why I assign him male gender I don't know) was dead. After our walk I got a small box from my apartment and went down to get the poor little guy and remove him from the lobby. As I was walking down the sidewalk with the box toward the dumpster I came to the intersection of my two streets. I live in a very ecologically- and beautification-conscious neighborhood. It's not uncommon to see a neighbor with a 5-gallon bucket or grocery sack out picking up garbage, etc. 

But I digress. 

Neighbors have created small gardens in the square space at each of the four corners of the intersection where the right angle of the curbs meet the right angle of the sidewalks. Some have flowers, some have native prairie grasses. One neighbor made an herb garden at one corner, free for neighbors to use! In the Fall and Winter people leave the dead plants and leaves from the trees as cover for animals and for natural fertilizer in the Spring. Standing at the corner by one garden I realized this little mouse should be returned to nature. So I scooped some of the dead leaves and plants away and covered him up. I thought it was much more respectful than tossing him into a dumpster in a cardboard box.

Being the empath that I am, when I got back inside I got all choked up. Here was a little mouse minding his own business, living his life, and somehow he met his demise in my building's lobby. I felt so bad for him, but at the same time so good that I did something respectful for him in the end. It probably sounds silly, but for the rest of the evening I played more with Rufus than usual, held him a little tighter, petted him just the way he likes a little longer, and made sure he was all curled up and covered up at bedtime at my feet in the bed where he loves to sleep. I thought about that mouse all night and hoped he knew that someone cared enough to do something kind for him in the end. I've not shared this story with any friends. One, most wouldn't understand it. And two, most of them aren't attuned to the kind of empathy and compassion vibe enough like I am to NOT make fun of me for it. 

That little mouse was a wonderful reminder to me. We don't take time to care about anything. We're just a shitty species who thinks that everything here is for our convenience. That both angers me and disappoints me. I've decided in the Spring I'm going to commit to tending to one of the corner gardens in some way. A little beauty and love for my neighborhood, little critters, insects, and the plants themselves. My tribute to a tiny mouse that helped me not to forget a huge lesson.