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Mouse, Little Mouse, Eight Months Later Dan Morris
Eight months it has sat in my freezer wrapped in paper towel and double bagged. Eight months ago I felt sorry for it, thought it deserved more than being tossed out my window to rot in the weeds. Eight months frozen with no plans for defrost. A stiff cold mouse isn’t something you show to the girl you invite over for dinner. Unless that’s the kind of thing the girl would be into. Then, maybe, she would want to find other dead animals to freeze. The robin mistaking a window for air; a squirrel that wasn’t fast enough. But I didn’t do it for the act. He’s as good as buried in my freezer. The frost keeps building as I keep forgetting and now it’s as cold outside as it is for him. Might as well let him chill until April and then give him a grave in the ground. Something none of his family will ever have. But they can visit him, leave flowers, remember the good times and hope to die outside. |
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