Damini
Part of the furniture
- Joined
- Dec 22, 2003
- Messages
- 2,234
The title pretty much says it all, but for elaborations sake, I'll explain that this isn't just a new hobby I've decided to pick up, nor some random question like "which is bigger, a polar bear or a cow". I do in fact have a tupperware box full of paralysed mouse, crawling pitifully round in circles, dragging it's poor, useless, mouse legs behind him.
My cat Ula, bless her merciless little furry paws, decided that there are several things more fun that simply killing a mouse. These include:
NOT killing it.
NOT killing it in my bedroom.
NOT killing it, in my bedroom, at 5 o'clock in the morning.
NOT killing it, in my bedroom, at 5 o'clock in the morning, in the middle of incredibly rustly plastic dustsheets.
NOT killing it, in my bedroom, at five o'clock in the morning, in the middle of incredibly rustly plastic dustsheets, when both Kenny and I had been out to the pub the night before. And then leaving us with a tupperware box full of paralysed mouse.
I feel really sorry for this mouse, but I don't think there's really a great disability scheme for Rodents of Limited Mobility, and that the kindest thing to do would probably kill it. Or build it bionic legs. Being of a wussy nature, I've not done either, and have instead just tried to feed it raisons, but it just twitches, and then drags it's legs some more.
I thought about gassing it in the oven, but that would obviously involve letting lots of gas build up in the oven, which, as a daughter of a fireman, I know I shouldn't really do. Kenny suggested drowning it, as allegedly you feel euphoric before you die, but I don't like the idea of throwing the blighter into water in case you don't feel euphoric, you just feel like a paralysed mouse struggling to swim. Do you think the vets would kill him for me, or do you think they'd look at me like I was a twat?
Help.
My cat Ula, bless her merciless little furry paws, decided that there are several things more fun that simply killing a mouse. These include:
NOT killing it.
NOT killing it in my bedroom.
NOT killing it, in my bedroom, at 5 o'clock in the morning.
NOT killing it, in my bedroom, at 5 o'clock in the morning, in the middle of incredibly rustly plastic dustsheets.
NOT killing it, in my bedroom, at five o'clock in the morning, in the middle of incredibly rustly plastic dustsheets, when both Kenny and I had been out to the pub the night before. And then leaving us with a tupperware box full of paralysed mouse.
I feel really sorry for this mouse, but I don't think there's really a great disability scheme for Rodents of Limited Mobility, and that the kindest thing to do would probably kill it. Or build it bionic legs. Being of a wussy nature, I've not done either, and have instead just tried to feed it raisons, but it just twitches, and then drags it's legs some more.
I thought about gassing it in the oven, but that would obviously involve letting lots of gas build up in the oven, which, as a daughter of a fireman, I know I shouldn't really do. Kenny suggested drowning it, as allegedly you feel euphoric before you die, but I don't like the idea of throwing the blighter into water in case you don't feel euphoric, you just feel like a paralysed mouse struggling to swim. Do you think the vets would kill him for me, or do you think they'd look at me like I was a twat?
Help.