As I was passing through my kitchen, I heard a skittering. This concerned me, because nothing good skitters. We’re programmed to dislike skittering things. So that explains why, even though I am quite brave and manly, I startled and squealed when I found the small mouse who had fallen into our sink. The tiny gray comet bounced and leaped around, trying to escape this makeshift oubliette it had found itself in. It could not reach the lip of the sink, and so it hurtled about fruitlessly.
This poor creature had been going about its life, exploring peacefully, when he tumbled ass over teakettle into something beyond his comprehension. He was now stuck in a place that would be fatal for him, thrashing against capricious circumstances in vain. And as he struggled, he was watched by a massive and alien intelligence, albeit one that yelps in terror.
Watching the mouse, I felt a spiritual connection with a kindred life form. I wondered how many times I had fallen down my own deep, dark pits. Which of these would I be unable to extricate myself from, no matter how much I flailed? What landscape will I fail to navigate? Would I be watched by some other, alien intelligence, and if so, how would it regard me? Perhaps with the same mix of sympathy and mild revulsion I had for the rodent in my sink.
I called my fiancé to help. While I am of course quite brave and manly, she isn’t, so she needed the practice dealing with things like this. I supervised. From across the room. Between the cracks in my fingers with my hand over my face. She deftly captured him with an upside-down glass and a spatula. Carefully, gingerly, she moved the mouse outside. He was free, delivered.
Maybe someday, we all will be. When we can’t find our way out of our sinks, might some benevolent force lift us up, rodents though we may be.