Smash Mouse

This morning, I walked down to the mailbox to see if I had any exciting new Amazon deliveries I had forgotten about. It was early, but light out. I wasn’t worried about skunks since they are nocturnal.

I was heading back to the barn when the dogs turned their attention to something that apparently smelled fantastic in the field. They were jumping around and pawing at whatever it was.

I saw something black moving in the grass, but I didn’t know if it was a snake or a skunk or what. Maverick got it in her mouth and started prancing around with her prize. She would drop it, then grab it and run around again.

It was a fluffy baby mouse.

The poor little mouse was terrified and on the verge of death-by-dog. Maverick had shaken it wildly and tossed it into the air like a toy. And now, it lay in the gravel, wondering what it had done in life to be put through such a horrific torture.

I had no choice but to remove the fancy vellum paper out of the wedding invitation I was carrying and use it to pick up the ailing mouse by the tail.

This poor baby was suffering and I knew I had to put it out of his or her misery.

Without hesitation, I proceeded to place the sweet little creature in a grocery bag and smashed it with a hammer several times.

That’s right. I am now a woman who has no problem smashing a mouse to death with a hammer.

I’m not proud of what I have become.


  1. You’re really something! I couldn’t have done it. Farm life is changing you!


    Aunt Sue

    P.S. Did you ever find someone to build you house?


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