How I Came to Exist In This House of the Dead
Dear Friendly and Esteemed Disciple-in-Waiting* —
Thanks for taking a minute of your precious leisure to stumble upon my blog. My name is Morguie. As the photo suggests, I am indeed, a mouse. Yes. That is what you read. A mouse. I am a simple house mouse. I assure you, though, that I do not dwell within just any old house! Perhaps this is the cause for my solitude here. Everyone else I know or was kin with was not brave enough to take on this house. Me, I’m not proud. Nor am I picky. Especially when warmth, shelter, space, and frankly, food are of any import. And they all are! Backing up to the food comment I just made…don’t fly off with any crazy notions that I meant anything other than what a regular house mouse considers as food. Let’s be clear, crystal flippin’ clear about that! This house may be one designated as one for the deceased, but there is plenty of living going on in the in-between times. Plenty of comers and goers, visitors and visited, etc.
I was born in a shed close by this main house. It seems oddly fitting to be a ‘survivor’ here. You see, one by one, my kinfolk fell away, whether from want to move to bigger and better digs, fell prey to the feline appetite of Chester, the predator in charge of vermin control, or victim of the guillotine thingy, the common mouse-trap. Now there’s a misnomer if ever I heard of one! A “trap” indeed! A trap infers the possibility that one within the trap may yet have a potential release in store. The guillotine insures against that possibility. I have SEEN what it does. I also miss a few of my siblings and cousins, courtesy of the contraption’s mechanical jaws. Somehow, I figure I was too lazy to get out and see the rest of the world, but fortunate to be quicker than Chester in ability to outwit and outrun him. And, if Chester is any sample of what’s out there to see in the rest of the world, I chose pretty wisely, if you ask me! Amazing that he’s made it this far without a bad accident…he was given 9 lives by design!
Anyway, so I remain here alone, but certainly not bored. And, bravely so! You ought to see this place in mid-winter, during high flu and pneumonia season! Busier than all-get-out! It’s quite a miracle I haven’t been claimed by the heavy rolling casters on some of the ‘moving’ equipment, or for that matter, smashed like a fly by the heavy landing of supply boxes, or pressed flat by a rolling bier. That’s the pretty wood thing they set a casket on to present to the family at visitation time up in the main chapel.
I feel pretty blessed being in this old house. I have all the creature comforts, and the food is exceptional. There’s a real kitchen on the main floor where the business office is. Since the business is a family owned operation, lunch has always been a family meal here as well. A couple of those humans can really get my curiosity up, with the smells of lunch cooking in the plug-in crock. I have taken my life to the literal edge just to sneak a peek at what’s going on at lunch! I cannot do this carefully enough…especially since I am technically not supposed to be here anymore.
Until CJ, I was a wanted mouse! A veritable price upon my head, for the removal of my head. I charmed my way into her heart with my dashing good looks, beady brown eyes, and my disarming wit! So CJ and I came to an understanding with one another, and part of the deal was that I was to be a rarity around here, not to be seen or heard. In exchange for my life, I agreed to be the ‘eyes and ears on the ground.’ Literally. It is such an exciting life for me, actually. I am a covert spy reporting underground about things happening above-ground. Pleased to make your acquaintance. I do hope you’ll be back very soon. I think I can charm you with my stories about what happens around this old place, known more commonly as a funeral home, house of the dead.
©2013, C.S. Thompson.