Of Mice and Men
Could you consider one for a pet? The reason I'm asking: in one of my suspense novels, Tara--the detective--has one for a pet. Her twin brother gave it to her for a joke and she ended up loving the little fellow. He's also sensitive to what is right and/or wrong in the cases she's trying to solve and he's able to give her animal hints (if she's smart enough to figure them out!)
So, would you have a mouse for a pet? Is it too icky? Are you afraid of mice? And are they more trouble than men?
That's what I'm getting at. Mice mess (uh hem) where you don't want them to (excuse me, but have you ever cleaned a toilet bowl?) They get into the food you don't want them in. But what else do they do? They run around, but then who wouldn't when a monsterish human form towers over you? I'd run for my life, too!
Not to be too indelicate (see above vague hint), but yeah, same difference. Then, ever try to hide the cookies? (homemade bread, pie, cake, etc. etc.) You'd think they were going through a worse persecution than some foreign third world country. They're much worse than children when they get sick. (I carry the phone around afraid any minute I'll have to call emergency.) And just let them prepare some document, manuscript, article, etc. You must, must, must listen to this.
So why is it when I have a tiny bit of my novel I need proofed, "I'm too busy right now" is what I hear? Fair turnabout is what I thought it was all about. Men!
They insist on heading to the most boring sections in Wal-Mart. They chat endlessly about sports and cars and jobs, but let us mention a baby! Oh, my, their eyes turn glassy and droop with a sudden syndrome called sleepiness.
Tell me this: is that fair?
But, hey, I gotta remember, I get warm cuddlings from one certain handsome man (hubby!), and I can't complain about him not taking me places.
He helps me in the house, strives to give me what I need--and want (most of the time--don't want to get too generous here! Grin) He's good at keeping the fireplace stoked because he knows I love it. He puts up with my pets, when he'd just as soon not have any. He listens-- sometimes--to my eternal chatting about my writing. He buys me flowers. And I think he loves me.
Hmmm . . . I think I'll keep him around for awhile yet.