Stirring the Pol Pot

I consider myself a bit of an animal lover.  So you can imagine how embarrassed I am to admit that I killed seven or eight animals yesterday.  In a ten-minute span. 

First, there was the mouse family—the very NEW mouse family--that had taken up residence in my birdseed container. I saw the mama when I lifted the lid and I gently scooted her out.  But I kept hearing little peeps emerging from the safflower, so I picked up the container and swished it back and forth, back and forth.  Eventually, I saw six or seven pink things surface.  Yeah, I’d been rattling the life right out of them.

One or two managed to writhe for a minute or so, but then, the slate was pretty much wiped clean.  My soul, however, is another matter. 

Appalled at what I’d done, my nose was to the ground as we headed for a walk a few minutes later.   Hooded eyes focused on my feet, it was hard to ignore my earlier, as-yet unrealized brutality.  There, spread out in a pulpy pile were the remains of some baby birds I’d managed to run over as I pulled into the drive a few minutes earlier. 

Let’s just say the Pol Pot of Woods Avenue has had better afternoons.