We live in an old wooden house and with that comes mice. Although we all like animals and especially the small and furry ones, mice are a nuisance. They chew on electric cables, they fail to understand the concept of walls and constructions and of a toilet they've never heard either.
In all: the mouse trap
But this morning when bringing Leena to the railway station I was wondering what this brownish moving "thing" was doing on the veranda. It was moving and at closer inspection it was a mouse, sitting next to the closed mouse trap. Julia put the mouse outside but when we came back it was still there. Apparently something was broken as there's no blood but still it couldn't do much.
So, instead of killing the mouse we "save" the mouse. Maybe it survives. But this is ridiculous isn't it? Does it make us feel good suddenly, to save a mouse which actually should be dead? Perhaps we don't like to see suffering but can accept death as the final thing. For now the mouse is here and the kids feel good about it. That is worth something at least. The mouse is from now on called:
"Lucky, or not?"