A Vile Pilgrimage

As a gift once we recieved this set of bookends -- they are heavy statues of Buddha, about 10 inches high. I use one of them as a doorstop, and position it so that it sits directly across from the door to the bathroom. If you are on the toilet and the door is open, the Buddha is framed in the doorway; it may sound weird, but it's nice to have him sort of sitting quietly with you in a meditative pose, hopefully setting the tone for your day. Knowledge of the Bathroom Buddha is necessary for context when I relay the following tale...

The spurned apartment continues its wrathful attack on it's mutinous inhabitants, spewing its hidden horrors out into the light! This morning before dawn I woke up and sensed that Sonja would stir soon for her feeding. Having decided to express some milk for a later time first, I got up and wandered out into the kitchen. As I groggily assembled the pumping gear I could hear the familiar nighttime rustling of the mice who live under the stove. My skin crawled a bit, but I was able to shake it off and get on with it. But then a change in the fidgety scratching caused me to turn and look -- a mouse had emerged from behind the trash can. It walked slowly, strangely across the kitchen floor toward the carpeted area by our bathroom. It was not a cute mouse -- it was long, black, and greasy looking. Certain I was having a nightmare, I continued working the hand pump and stared. It exited the kitchen and changed direction, moseying sideways across the carpet. I flicked the lights on briefly -- no reaction. I stamped at it, banged a broomstick on the floor near it, to no avail -- it staggered with spooky determination. At last it came to a stop, resting in a pool of moonlight at the foot of the Buddha, and died!