Of Mice and Women

Russia
D. was a biology student and an accomplished mouse rights defender. She incessantly campaigned against the war that I tried to wage against the mice, who happened to be my neighbors in the ground floor apartment that I recently moved in. A mere view of a mousetrap broke her heart, and all our dates would begin and end with her passionate pleas to be merciful and to discharge the horrible weapon.

A liberally minded person would say that the mice and I could have coexisted peacefully. Indeed, I did not feel special hatred against them, and even though their presence was detectable, my food supplies were safe from their attacks... strictly speaking, the only food that they obtained from my supplies was the cheese that I put in the mousetrap, since I did not know how to set the trap properly (in addition, it had a very strong spring and I feared for the safety of my fingers). What eventually tipped the scales and led to a war of extermination, was their outrageously provocative behavior, illustrated by the following episode.

That day I took a short nap on the sofa with the light in the room was still on. When I opened my eyes I saw a mouse. It was clearly thinking that I was asleep, as it walked from the corner towards the mousetrap, stopped for a second to look at me with its beautiful black eyes, and proceeded to devour the cheese.

I was outraged at such impertinence and the very next morning consulted a colleague, who was a kind of an expert in rat-hunting (he gained the experience while fighting rats in his father's garage). This is how I learned to set the mousetrap properly - with risk to my fingers, but with much success against the mice.

D. and I broke apart soon after I exterminated the whole mouse family.

America
J. brought fresh mozzarella cheese and wine, and promised to cook for me something special. She was in a bossy mood and sent me to the living room to prepare the table and music, while busying herself in the kitchen. Of course, a few minutes alone with the cooking was too much for her, because when I returned she immediately turned to me and started excitedly telling, me something about her friend and her friend's Russian boyfriend... and this was when I saw it...

It was a tiny mouse running all the way along the kitchen counter toward the cheese. In such moments a man thinks quickly and clearly. I said: "J., dear, come to me and please don't turn around"...

Having led J. out of the kitchen, I bravely entered in to face the animal. Not willing to take any chances against the wild beast, I was advancing slowly and carefully, preparing to retreat, if it pounced at me... well... actually I hoped that it would escape and spare me the necessity to catch it with my bare hands.

But the mouse didn't run. It sat in the middle of the counter and looked at me with the same beautiful black little eyes as the mouse murdered by me in Russia. I had read somewhere that no animal can withstand a direct eye contact with a man, but the creature was simply too paralyzed with fear and did not move. I covered it with a plastic cup.

- So, did you catch it? - I heard J.'s voice. I was sure that she was already bored from waiting and smoking second or even third cigarette.

- I covered it with a plastic cup. What should I do with it?!

- I don't know. You are the man!

I put a sheet of paper under the cup and threw the mouse out of the window. Since a mouse hardly can be hurt by falling from the third floor, J. did not express much compassion for the little creature. Neither did she seem to appreciate my heroism. Nevertheless, since then we were meeting at her place.

Israel
V. was a ballet dancer. Actually, she was a mathematician, but as a girl she spent many years studying ballet. It was at the time when she entered the high-school that she had to make a choice between the career of ballerina and the one of a scientist.

Her best role was in "The Nutcracker," which encompasses all her career on stage. She started as a soldier, which, according to her, was the easiest possible role: soldiers did only one thing - they marched across the stage. But she was a very good soldier and very soon was promoted to a mouse. Mice were more sophisticated than soldiers - they did three different things. First of all, they beautifully ran onto the stage...

But I had never learned exactly what the other two things were, because the only time that I actually saw her running was when she ran out of my apartment. And my ignorant of ballet neighbors, who stood on the porch, were so awestruck that they forgot to applaud her exit.