A Walk in the Countryside

Summer 2002














JACKSON
Motley? Are you busy?

MOTLEYFOOL
No Jackson, I'm just adjusting the idle speed on the E-type. What's up?

I saunter on over to the side of the house where Jackson likes to sunbathe with the cat. I lean my frame against the wall, my jeans feeling the sun's warmth on the sidewalk beneath me. He sits at first then lays down, his big head finding it's way onto my shoe.

MOTLEYFOOL
You've been pensive all week. The story about the death of Boris really shook you up didn't it?

JACKSON
Yes, very much. It got me to thinking though.

MOTLEYFOOL
About?

JACKSON
Life...you know, and other stuff.

MOTLEYFOOL
Do tell.

JACKSON
Well, remember a couple of years ago when I chased down that squirrel and killed it?

MOTLEYFOOL
You mean so severely injured him that I had to put the poor thing out of his MISERY? How could I forget?

JACKSON
Now, hang on. I can feel feel the anger rising in your voice.

MOTLEYFOOL
Well Jackson, you had no call to do that. He had his own life to live too you know. I still don't believe that you outran him.

JACKSON
I'm very athletic.

MOTLEYFOOL
Guess so...

JACKSON
Anyway, I never understood your anger about the whole thing until now. You really yelled at me that time, I've never seen you so angry. I think you hit me too.

MOTLEYFOOL
Yes Jackson, I was furious with you. What got into you? You're such a calm and gentle soul.

JACKSON
We're ALL primitives under this thin veneer of civilisation Motley, even you. The primal being exists inside you whether you like it or not.

MOTLEYFOOL
Interesting Jackson...

JACKSON
And in my case I was responding to the chase reflex anyway. If that damn squirrel hadn't run he'd be alive today ya know. Anyway...you're getting me off-topic here. I know now why you were upset with me. The life of that squirrel was worth something right? It was a precious thing?

MOTLEYFOOL
Yes, it was Jackson.

JACKSON
Who says? At Dogwort's we were taught that life is something that we can't measure or grade as far as importance is concerned. My actions toward that squirrel were merely another event in space-time. Of no real significance in the cosmic scheme of things.

MOTLEYFOOL
Oh boy, Jackson. I can't really argue with your logic here. Call it a feeling, a hunch, I don't know. We humans like to anthropomorphize this world so we can just get through the day.

JACKSON
Anthropo-WHAT?

MOTLEYFOOL
Assign arbitrary human values to things, you know, we make up gods and then we stick them up in the sky. We make cartoon characters out of animals and give then them human voices and characteristics. Stuff like that.

JACKSON
Or even talk to their dog...

MOTLEYFOOL
Touché.

JACKSON
Gotcha! ...hehehe. Anyway, I think I understand what you mean. But it doesn't give it any weight or veracity, this value you place on our lives.

MOTLEYFOOL
I know Jackson, I can't prove anything here. I think what we're doing is justifying our emotions when we try to assign a value to a life. I like to see an entity live out their entire life span to a ripe old age.

JACKSON
See? That doesn't make any sense in a Lamarckian model Motley.

MOTLEYFOOL
(sigh)

JACKSON
OK OK. I see what you're saying but on a gut level I just don't get it. But one thing bothers me Motley...

MOTLEYFOOL
What's that fella?

JACKSON
When I die, will you feel as bad about my passing as you did when Boris died?

MOTLEYFOOL
Of course I will Jackson, maybe worse.

JACKSON
*wags big bushy tail* Thanks Motley.

MOTLEYFOOL
So...wait a minute! Now you change your tune and want an emotional value placed upon your own life?!!! Hahahahaha! Gotcha!

JACKSON
Harummph. Touche.

Origins

This isn't really a political blog. I intentionally kept it that way so I could lavish all my time on my rather eclectic style of writing, whatever that is. When I started this blog I honestly didn't know what kind of form or direction it would take. But it found it's way and in general I like what I've done so far. But I don't actually jump into politics here and not because I'm not political. I am. Part of the time I work as a political operative, a media flack for Democratic players here in Ohio. So it's not like I'm shy or anything, it's just that I was determined to keep this blog as a kind of oasis from the hardball politics that proliferate on the web.

As many of you already know I enjoy talking about the natural world. It has fascinated me since childhood as I read everything I could about natural history, dinosaurs and astronomy. Why I never became an anthropologist or an astronomer I'll never know. Maybe I was lazy, maybe I had other fish to fry. I can't seem to remember. But now and then discussion of the natural world turns political, especially when it infringes into people's cherished religious world views. This is one of those cases. The topic is human evolution and Intelligent Design/Creationism. I feel the need to weigh in on the issue and what better time than now?

It's quite amazing that Intelligent Design or Creationism can take hold in this country. It amazes me that a sizable majority of my countrymen are either A:severely uninformed or B: complete dolts.

Modern evolutionary theory is strongly supported by 97% of the world's scientists. That's a 9 followed by a 7. It's what we call overwhelming. AKA a slam dunk. The remaining 3% by and large are cranks and frauds who got their "degrees" from diploma mills or by mail order. Yet that doesn't stop the media from giving these cranks 50% of their attention which far outweighs the importance real scientists place upon them. The media is also culpable in this, they actually give these people air time. Long ago the media used to teach and had a sense of duty to inform. But nowadays they simply parrot things in a he-said, she-said manner without discerning whether one side is actually telling the truth. If President Bush were to announce that the earth was flat the headlines would read "President proclaims a flat earth! The debate rages!"

Peer review

It also amazes me that these same people have no problem singling out their own religious creation myth for special treatment while ignoring hundreds of other creation myths, some of which make more sense but are passed over because their supporters aren't numerous enough to garner the needed political support to push their agenda forward. What a surprise! It's political! And there's the crux of it...Creationism and I.D. have NOTHING to do with science. It's a political movement and not a scientific one. The far Christian right treats it like a political campaign complete with talking points. The Creationists themselves avoid the usual path to acceptance by the scientific community ie: you get published, present your findings for peer review and wait to see if your results can be verified. That's peer review. It is an elemental part of the process. If a theory is still standing after the best scientific minds have taken their best shots at it then it is well on it's way to being accepted. But that's not what these people do. They skip peer review altogether and go over the heads of the very scientific community they want acceptance from. Why do they avoid the scientific community? Because they know their "theories" won't hold water and that if any competant scientist gets hold of them they'll be ripped to shreds. Instead they publish their findings in books and sell them directly to the public as "fact" or put them up on Creationist websites. This allows them to skip that pesky peer review thing and go directly to the masses who are ill equipped to distinguish between good science and quackery. There's also a more than a little hypocrisy in the approach of the Creationist community. They claim (wrongly) that evolution is shaky and untested and shouldn't be taught yet they want to rush THEIR completely ridiculous and untested notions into science classrooms immediately.

Teach both

President Bush weighed in on the issue last month saying that we should teach both evolution and I.D. His opinion seemed so fair, so balanced. What could be more fair than giving students the opportunity to hear BOTH sides of the argument? Being fair is the American way, is it not? There's only one problem...there is no such thing as BOTH. There are hundreds of other religious creation myths so narrowing it down to evolution versus only one of many such myths is a false dilemma. There is no BOTH, there is only ONE scientific theory to explain human origins or MANY, maybe HUNDREDS of creation myths that rival the Christian one. There is no such thing as BOTH. It shows that Bush has been co-opted by the falacious argument put out by the Creationists and shows that he hasn't thought very deeply about the issue and has little to offer in the debate.

Words of science

How is it that the far Christian right is able to twist things in the political and religious spheres but not in the scientific milieu? Have you ever wondered about that? These people are able to slowly change the meaning of a word like "liberal" from being... " open to new ideas for progress, and tolerant of the ideas and behavior of others; broad-minded" to meaning... "America hating, flag burning, tree hugging, granola eating, gay loving, French wine swilling traitor". The reason is because the words of science are very precise. They don't lend themselves to reinterpretation. Take the word "theory" for example. To the man on the street it means conjecture, a flawed fact. I can't tell you how many times I've heard news anchors, EDUCATED PEOPLE, use the phrase improperly. "Well it's only a theory". Only a theory? Even these college educated people misuse the word in it's true scientific sense. The scientist's definition is much more precise. To the scientist it means...

"A set of statements or principles devised to explain a group of
facts or phenomena, especially one that has been repeatedly tested or is widely accepted and can be used to make predictions about natural phenomena".

What the Creationists attempt to do is confuse people into thinking that the words "theory" and "hypothesis" are the same. Hypothesis is defined by scientists as...

"a tentative explanation for an observation, phenomenon, or scientific problem that can be tested by further investigation".

In every day usage they might be interchanged but NOT in the scientific world. We could have called it "Darwin's Hypothesis Of Evolution" but we didn't because a theory is different from a hypothesis. We call it "Darwin's Theory Of Evolution" because it has met the standard of being a viable theory. The Creationists attempt to muddy the water, they try to mislead people into thinking that scientific theories are mere conjecture. They are wrong and should be told so from the highest rooftops.

A Time Machine Of Sorts

It's a daunting task but one I've set my mind to...to recreate my vinyl music collection on CD. After acquiring Emerson, Lake And Palmer I began to realize that the music of the 1970s was unbelievable. A cornucopia, a treasure chest of awesome music that impresses me to this day. Soon after that decade ended it was fashionable to bash it as puerile and vapid. Stupid beyond words. Of course, we were at our ultimate in cynicism being in our late twenties. That's the best time to be alive but it is also a time when one is at their worst as far as attitude is concerned. We were such know-it-alls, we thought we knew everything with our fancy college educations so we bashed away at the pop culture of the time. Disco made it easy. It came along for the last three years of that decade and couldn't go away quickly enough. I was not a fan of disco but seen from the vantage point of 2005 it seems rather charming and quaint right now.

But before the horror of disco invaded our lives we had music, oh baby did we ever have music. We had YES, we had Jethro Tull, Joni Mitchell, Moody Blues, Pink Floyd, Electric Light Orchestra, Genesis, Supertramp, Elton John,...and the list could go on and on. I love this music and I played it loud and long on my car stereo. The music became the symbol of my life and times, a touchstone that will never fade for me. It defined a decade, a time in my life that was the most memorable of my now middle-aged life. It recalls the early part of the decade when I got my first car. I know exactly what was playing on the radio as it also occupied a spot in my music collection. When I hear this music I am transported back in space and time to a better, safer and gentler time. I can see, touch, hear and taste my past. I can see myself driving every day to my nearby college, car stereo blaring as I tried to educate myself, find myself. I can recall President Carter asking us to sacrifice by lowering our thermostats as the Arab oil embargo started to hurt. I can see the long lines for gas, Archie Bunker and Benson on Soap.

But it all ended. The 1980s were coming and with it a new musical sound, a revolution of sorts, New Wave. How apropos. In addition to music a new political mood was brewing as well, a new kind of conservatism and in 1980 it took the form of Ronald Reagan. As the 70s faded and the 80s debuted it was as if we were glad to be rid of that old, friendly and reliable dog that you grew up with. He wasn't much to look at but you were kind of glad to get rid of him because this new dog was a purebred and so much better looking. But in hindsight you missed that old dog. He loved you like no other, the new one couldn't touch him in that department. But you were now stuck with the new one. It didn't make you feel good, it just made you lonely for your old friend. We were stuck with the 1980s...but I'll take the 70s any day.

A Walk in the Countryside

Summer 2002






Episode Five, Jackson learns a valuable lesson

There he lays, a big black lump waiting for me to instigate some kind of action so he can happily join along. I sat down next to him on the side of the house where the morning sun was already taking the chill off the night's unfriendly passing. He pretended not to notice me but the swishing of that big black furry tail always gave him away.

MOTLEYFOOL: Good morning you great beast.
JACKSON: Hi Motley, what's up for today?
MOTLEYFOOL: Not much boy, I have to go into town for a bit then come back and wash the car. Wanna help?
JACKSON: Can I just watch?
MOTLEYFOOL: Sure you can fella.
JACKSON: What's that in your hand?
MOTLEYFOOL: This? Oh, something I wanted to show you. Since you can read and all.
JACKSON: Oooohhhh! Dog Romance novels? Hahaha.
MOTLEYFOOL: No Jackson, something much more somber. Remember when you mentioned that dogs have a hard time with concept of mortality? And that you also wanted me to tell you about my previous dog, Boris?
JACKSON: Yes Motley, I don't know why dogs don't understand the concept of mortality. I'm really sketchy on it myself. And yes, I'd like to hear about Boris too.
MOTLEYFOOL: Well perhaps we can kill two birds with one stone. Read this and maybe you'll understand.
JACKSON: Great, but you'll have to turn the pages for me.
MOTLEYFOOL: No problem, shall we begin?
JACKSON: Pro...ceed.

Letter to Susan
Pimlico, London SW1V 4EH
5-10-98
Dear Susie,
I sent you an e-mail this morning and this afternoon your letter arrived which is perfect timing as I was going to start in on a new letter anyway. Thanks for your kind words in your e-mail the other day, I think I needed it more than I thought.
The whole tragedy with Boris started almost two weeks ago when I gave him a bath. His “spring cleaning” if you will. This consisted of a brushing first to remove the excess hair from his winter coat and a bath right after. When I was finished we noticed that he seemed fatter than usual because now that a lot of that hair is gone you can see his real body. My father said it first. “ My God he’s fat” he said. I replied “Well we’re just going to have to give him less food.” As the week went on however, we began to realize that his pear-shape was quite unnatural and that something would have to be done. I put this off for a week to sit back and see what developed but also to attempt to deny to myself what I feared most. Then last Friday I took him to see our regular veterinarian Dr. Wilson. He immediately recognized that Boris had a very large growth in his upper abdominal and that something would have to be done fast. However, we would first have to determine if the condition was cancerous or not. If the results of the upcoming blood test came back negative or with no cancerous elements in his system then we could do a surgery to remove the growth and who knows? Maybe Boris could have another year or so of life. I would have to leave him there at the vets for the better part of the day in order for them to do the blood test. As I was about to leave I said “ I just want to be sure that you’re not going to put him to sleep without me being here.” I then realized that I was choking back tears as I spoke so I composed myself and exited the office rather quickly. Upon arriving home I informed my parents about the situation and added that I didn’t think he was going to make it, once again feeling my voice cracking. The plan as of now is to wait for the results of the blood test to see if there is an outside chance of saving him. He would stay at the vets for the night and I would come pick him up in the morning. Later that day when the vet called to give me the bad news about the growth being cancerous I changed my mind and looking at my watch I figured that I had enough time to dash to the vets office to bring Boris home. I didn’t want him to spend a night there alone if he didn’t have to. The plan now is to have Dr. Wilson come out to the house on Tuesday morning to put Boris to sleep so that he can have one last weekend at home with his family, living like a king for the last few days. But later that day Boris’ condition seemed to get worse and I knew that he couldn’t wait until Tuesday to be relieved of his pain. I went to work that afternoon knowing that I would have to make a bunch of phone calls the next morning to various vets to see if one of them could come out in the morning to put him to sleep. You see, Dr. Wilson couldn’t come out until the late afternoon on Saturday and as I needed to get to work shortly thereafter I really wanted to have a vet there in the early morning. After calling all the vets I knew with no success I fell back upon my old vet Dr. Wilson to come out around 2:00 pm.

Sometime around 1:00 or so I got a call from my then girlfriend Marilyn who wanted to know the latest news. I told her that Boris couldn’t wait until Tuesday and would have to be put down today(Saturday). She asked me if she could come over right away to see him one more time and would I mind if she stayed while he passed away? Of course I told her that she’d really be welcome during this difficult time and that Boris would really like to see her too. It’s about a forty minute drive for her from the coast so she arrived at the house around 1:45pm. When she walked in the front door Boris raised his head and looked at her as if beckoning her to come over to pet him. She said “I’m sorry Boris but I had to say hi to Motley's parents first”. She sat in the chair right next to him and stroked his muzzle for a while. I joined them and laid down on the floor next to him. He wasn’t in too much pain at the moment so he was enjoying all this adulation. I tried to think if there was something else I needed to do. I had risen early that morning to spend some time with Boris and to dig his grave in the backyard. It took me an hour or so but when I was finished I had a deep grave about 3ft by 5ft. I thought about this as I lay there with Boris on that afternoon. I looked over at Marilyn and said “You know, ten years from now I’d give anything to be here petting Boris one more time.” We stayed there with him for more than an hour only occasionally getting up to see if the vet was driving up. I was glad that we had that time with him and that Marilyn could join in on it.

The vet finally drove up almost an hour late but this time I was glad for his tardiness for it gave me a little extra time with my old friend. It was about 2:50pm and time to let Boris get on with his journey. I keep an olive colored blanket in the trunk of my car so I can lay on it as I do auto repair. I had spread this blanket out in front of the grave in the backyard so Boris could have a nice place to lay as he went to sleep. But there was one little problem: Boris was in the house and we needed him to be out back. He was having a devilishly difficult time in his attempts to stand up and he was much too heavy to carry out to the back. Would he stand up just one more time? With much coaxing and encouraging words he bravely made it to his feet and slowly ambled out to the blanket that I’d laid out for him. As he was making his way out to the backyard I was so proud of him because of the total and complete trust that he was placing in me. There was even a nobleness there that I can only hope one day to emulate. He always did have what Marilyn called “kind eyes” and never were they so kind as when he was making those final few steps. Finally he made it to the blanket and laid down right where we asked him to. I said to him “It’s been a long road Boris, you don’t have to walk anymore. You can rest now.” I held his head in my lap as the vet searched for a vein in his front leg to insert the needle. Dr Wilson was having a hard time finding one because Boris’ blood pressure was so low. He gave up on this leg after he couldn’t find the vein so he tried the leg that was directly under. During all this Boris is spilling more than a few drops of blood on the blanket. But nobody cared. The vet finally finds a vein and injects the chemical. A soft rain begins to fall and I remember apologizing to the vet about it. I’m now sobbing “Don’t forget us Boris, I’ll follow you one day.” My 80 year old father could no longer contain himself and was visibly sobbing as well. Marilyn was standing next to him and told Boris that when we all pass on that we would look for him. While all this was happening my mother was inside the house, watching from the kitchen window. Since she was physically unable to join us outside, she instead stood over the kitchen sink while watching Boris’ final moments.

After a minute or so I realized that he was gone. I said “I love you Boris. We’ll never forget you.” I kissed his muzzle and slowly let his head rest on the blanket. As I did the rain stopped as quickly as it had started. Dr. Wilson got up and was preparing to leave but before he did I reached up from where I was on the ground and shook his hand and thanked him for being such a great vet. He walked away and it was just the four of us and Boris. I then picked Boris up and lowered him into the grave that I had dug. Or at least I attempted to. Weighting around 95 pounds wasn’t the problem so much as he was as limp as jelly so his descent wasn’t as graceful as I would have liked. As a matter of fact I damn near dropped him completely but I apologized while weeping uncontrollably so I’m sure that he forgave me. My father had gone into the house a couple of minutes earlier to see how my mother was getting on so I left Marilyn alone with Boris for a few moments while I retrieved a few things from around the house to place in his grave. I found a couple of his old tennis balls that he used to fetch when he was younger as well as some of his favorite dog biscuits and to top it all off I cut a beautiful yellow rose from my rose garden. While I was gone Marilyn petted Boris and noticed how quiet it was with only the sound of the wind breaking the stillness. She noticed how the wind blew Boris’ fur to and fro. I’m glad she was there to keep him company. I didn’t want him to be alone for one second, even in death. I returned to the backyard and gave Marilyn one of the tennis balls and two of the biscuits so that we both could toss them in and send our beloved friend on his way. The tennis balls and biscuits were placed within easy reach of his front paws and I reached way down to place the yellow rose on his head and shoulders. I put on my gloves, picked up the shovel and started heaping shovelfuls of dirt on his hindquarters. I simply didn’t want to bury his head because I knew that once I did I would never see those kind eyes again. Eventually I had to though. Marilyn was now in the house, comiserating with my parents so I finished the burial, put away the blanket and the shovel and went inside.

I was none the worse for wear except for my left achilles tendon which I strained a little while digging the grave that morning. The loss really hadn’t hit me yet but I’d deal with it when it came. I arrived home that night around 10:30 or so, tired and emotionally drained. It had been a long day. In the aftermath of all this I have avoided detailed explanations to friends for fear that I would regress into my previous miserable state. This is the first time I’ve revisited the event and I think I’m all right. My brother James called this morning from Dallas, Texas to wish my mother a Happy Mothers Day and since I hadn’t spoken to him for two weeks he hadn’t heard the news. When I told him about Boris he gasped and then could barely speak for he was so choked up. I hadn’t realized how much my brothers loved that dog. As I write this it’s been eight days since he died and everywhere we turn there are reminders of his being there. An old tennis ball in the corner, a tuft of hair by the sofa, his rug in the toolshed. So why do we place so much importance on the life and death of a dog? Some would question the depth of importance of such a thing. But I don’t. I think the lives of animals are just as important as ours. I think that their lives are just as worthy of living and are as precious to them as ours. And I haven’t seen any solid empirical evidence to suggest otherwise.

There are only positive things to say about his life at this point. We had picked Boris up as a stray eleven years ago. He was found wandering in the nearby riverbed and I jumped at the opportunity to have a beautiful Golden Retriever. He could have starved, or been hit by a car but he wasn’t. He found the best home he could have possibly wished for. A veritable dog heaven where he could run and play to his hearts content. And there’s no doubt that we were blessed by his presence. He gave me so much happiness and joy that so heavily outweighted the grief of his final week of life. To say that it was worth it would be an understatement.
In other news (as if there could possibly be more) I did get your letter (many thanks) and in my next missive I’ll get around to addressing all of the cool stuff you were referring to especially the bit about coming over to England for your wedding and assorted Thom-foolery!! We’ll also be in touch via e-mail this week so keep smiling and I promise that my next letter will be much happier.
Love,
Motley
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
JACKSON: (sigh)
MOTLEYFOOL: So, what do you think Jackson?
JACKSON: So that's what death is. Motley, I hate this, it was awful.
MOTLEYFOOL: I'm sorry boy, but you wanted to know. It seemed the only way to show you.
JACKSON: So you're saying that this isn't like The Loaves and the Fishes? It doesn't go on forever? We just...cease to be?
MOTLEYFOOL: I'm afraid so boy. The tell-tale signs are showing up even now. I have some grey hairs and I can see that you're getting a couple too.
JACKSON: So what this means is we have limited time? That this will all end and we'll be gone?
MOTLEYFOOL: Yes.
JACKSON: Well then, let's get going Motley. Please take me for a walk down by the riverbed. Let's get in as much fun as we can with the remaining time we have.
MOTLEYFOOL: Oh Jackson, I don't have time. I need to go do those things I told you about earlier. I'll take you for a walk tomorrow OK?
JACKSON: That's one day for you, seven days for me. That's a long time in dog years ya know.
MOTLEYFOOL: Got a point there, a week would be a long time for me to wait for something.
JACKSON: So we're going right?!!!!
MOTLEYFOOL: Very well, I suppose that other stuff can wait. But when we get back you gotta help me wash the car. Can you detail the rims?
JACKSON: I'd do anything for you Motley.
MOTLEYFOOL: I know fella, I know.

And off we went, him bounding ahead of me as if to say that we weren't going fast enough. These somber thoughts at least out of his mind for the moment. It doesn't take much to keep him happy, much the same as it was with Boris. They live such fleeting and temporary lives these creatures whose trust in us is infinite and whose faith in their guardians depends not merely on food and shelter, but on a kind word and soft hands.

Maus

In the movie The Green Mile there is a mouse named Mr. Jingles who gets the gift of long life from a miraculuous healer. The mouse lives for 60+ years, same as the lead character who also lives much longer due to divine intervention. But I'm getting ahead of myself. This is a story about compassion, empathy, death and contradictions.

I have a mouse in my house too. Or I had one until I gave him the heave ho. I saw my mouse last week as he was sneaking along the wall in the living room. I cornered him underneath a bookcase and then played out our little game of cat and...never mind. I fetched a small stick from the kitchen to shoo him from underneath the bookcase but I didn't have a box or some other vessel to put him in. So we played this little game where I would chase him to the other side of the room where he'd hide underneath something else and I'd then scare him to another spot. This went on for fifteen minutes until I could see that he was exhausted under the TV stand. I could have wailed him with the stick but he'd put up such a good fight that I didn't have the heart for it. I gave up and he eventually escaped into the kitchen and out to safety.

I should mention that I've set up several mousetraps in the house. All three are baited with Swiss cheese because that's what they use in Looney Tunes cartoons to catch cartoon mice. Who am I to argue with such logic? As a matter of fact, I've learned most of my behaviour patterns from cartoon characters, much to my detrement. Anyway, the traps are there. A little mousie need only stick his snoot into one of them and his little rodent brain would be crushed beyond recognition. I prefer to use mousetraps because they're so impersonal. I can kill a mouse and not feel bad about it because I'm not the one who actually got his hands dirty. So to speak. Never mind that I bought it, baited it, set the trap and gingerly placed it in a strategic position. Ultimately it's the mouse itself that makes the life or death decision. My conscience is clear. So like a grizzled old mountain man of old, I check the trap lines every morning to see if any of these vermin have lost their lives to the only machine that doesn't need a new model every year.

And who coined them as "vermin" in the first place? The've been around in various forms for 60 million years. Were it not for a chance encounter with a large comet that struck somewhere in the Yucatan Peninsula, our species wouldn't have emerged from the shadow of the dinosaurs. But it was rodent-like mammals that started the ball rolling in our eventual rise to humanity. From rodents to lemurs to monkeys to apes, our heritage can be traced back to our friends with the funny whiskers and almost human-like hands. We owe them a debt of gratitude. Or so says I.

My next encounter with my little cheeto loving friend was three days ago. I saw him in the kitchen trying to get by me into the dining room. I cut him off and waited until he made his move. He darted across the entrance to the downstairs bathroom and ducked behind Jackson's food bowl. It's a long rectangular food trough that I've been using for two different dogs for more than twenty years. I lifted the edge of the food trough and put it down. I heard Mr. Mouse squeaking loudly and I knew that the edge of the trough had caught him by the tail. I'VE GOT HIM! I wanted to get his tail from out under the food trough quickly so I grabbed a plastic bowl and waited on one side of the trough. He darted right into the bowl. I had him! Wait. No, I didn't, He hopped right over the edge and back on the floor. I quickly put the bowl on top of him and found a large piece of cardbord to insert gently underneath so I'd have him contained. I turned the whole thing over, opened the kitchen door and walked outside. I could feel him shuffling about as he tried to escape but I held the cardboard top firm. I continued walking until I was about a hundred yards down the back alley. I removed the cardboard top to see that the inside of the white plastic bowl was streaked with blood. He'd probably injured his tail when I dropped the food trough on it. Without blinking an eye I tossed him into a pile of leaves and branches. Goodbye little fella, sorry about the tail but it'll heal and you'll be back to your old self real soon. I walked back to the house feeling rotten about his injury but glad that he was outside and that the mousetraps hadn't gotten to him first.

In The Green Mile the little mouse, Mr. Jingles, gets a reprieve from certain death when the healer takes his dead and lifeless body into his hands and blows the breath of life back into him. The mouse would live for many more decades, long beyond the normal lifespan of normal mice. Like my little friend, he'd been given a second chance at life. This wasn't quite as dramatic a finish but was at least somewhat symbolic. Meanwhile back at the house the instruments of death lie in wait.