Friday, September 17, 2010


I had to do the grossest thing everrrr the other day. I had to go buy mice for the science teacher's pet snake. My Strawberry Frap was supposed to feed the mice in his science teacher's class, but they had a substitute that day and he didn't know where the mice food was, so they died.

Eight of them.
Apparently the snake can't eat DEAD mice, that would make too much sense.

Off I go to find real, live mice (as opposed to dead, frozen mice - didn't know I could buy frozen ones. Can't say that I really needed to know that either.)

The pet store has hundreds of mice and the little college girl sales associate asks me what kind of mice I want to buy. Umm....seriously???  Just live ones, I guess. The thought of purchasing a living thing that will be consumed by another living thing was making me nauseous. I needed to get out of there.

I tried to make conversation with college girl and distract myself from the nauseated feeling I had. I told her I didn't feel right about purchasing these little things and she told me not to worry.

"Mice reproduce every 3 weeks and have litters of 10-20."

 (OMGosh! Can you imagine birthing that often and then having to nurse them all???)

The girl casually puts them in this box that ironically says "live animals" on the side. And I go to the register to pay for something that will be dead shortly.

Thirteen dollars and 80 cents later I carry this "live animals" box to my car and put them in the farthest place away from the driver's seat and turn up the radio. I didn't want to hear them.

After delivering the mice to the school office, I get a call from the science teacher stating that I didn't need to purchase the mice after all. It wasn't Strawberry Fraps responsibility that they died - it was his own.


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