The Mice and the conclusion

Until Brother was born, I was in charge of the nativity scene at Christmas. Mom had painted ceramic figures – almost cartoon-like with their little round bodies – and I loved to take out the manger, arrange the straw and place the animals inside. The people, save baby Jesus, had to linger outside the manger, away from the warmth of the small bulb that lit the interior of the brown shack.

Jesus was placed between the donkey and the bull while sheep and camels guarded the edges of the manger.

“Katie, why are all the people outside?” Mom would ask.

“It’s cold at Christmas. I don’t want the animals to be cold.”

“So you want the people to be cold? Mary and Joseph? The wise men? The shepherds?”

“They should dress warm.”

She was eager to hand over the job to Brother when he was not yet three years old. In my nearly seven-year-old wisdom, I explained to him that the animals might be cold outside while the people were more capable of caring for themselves. He was pleased with his responsibility of arranging “baby Jesus and his friends” and followed my advice by placing the animals inside with the baby, leaving the adults to watch from outdoors.

Mom now arranges the nativity scene herself.

So you might smile and think I grew out of it, right? Well...

I’ve mentioned I have a dog. After 2 years of grad school, I moved 20 minutes away from campus to find an animal-friendly apartment building. Then I carefully chose Chienne online, then pushed to move in a week earlier than the lease actually started so I could get the dog as soon as possible. We moved all day, then went to pick up the dog that night.

Chienne has allergies – lost much of her short coat that first summer. All told – between steroids, injections, pills, special diets, weekly veterinarian visits (I went through 4 people before I found someone I liked), fish oil, tablets in food… I’ve spent at least $5K on this dog and her health within the three years we’ve been best friends.

Lest you think that’s normal – responsible even – let me list a few other things in terms of how I deal with my little roommate.

She likes to ride in the front seat of the car. She can see better. Normally this isn’t an issue since when she’s with me, we’re alone. However, if I have a human passenger, said person will either hold 50 pounds of dog that won’t sit still or have a seat in the back so the dog can have her spot.

My parents and I took her to Texas (about a 28 hour car ride – long story, miserable trip) and for the entire trip, 2 people sat in back, someone drove and Chienne had the passenger seat. Seriously.

She has short hair and I like to be cold, so I’m constantly covering her up. I bought her 2 blankets, Mom made her a couple. When she comes over to nudge me, I’ll make sure she’s all snug and warm under a blanket.

I’m really weird about sleeping – the environment has to be nearly perfect – so I knew that I didn’t want the dog in bed with me. Not only does she sleep with me, she’s usually under the covers, tucked behind my knees. Some mornings I’ll roll over and find her head on the pillow next to mine.

I bought a house for her. I wasn’t crazy about living in apartments, but I could have done it for convenience. But I promised her a yard and doggie door after grad school, so I commute at least 30 minutes each way to fulfill that promise.

I had to buy a new back door to put in said doggie door.

She keeps rolling in the freaking grass and tracking it all over the house. So I went to the attic and found the lawn chairs I’d stored and put one on the back patio. Now she lies in the chair instead of on the ground and we’re both happier.

When I go get fast food, she always goes. Sometimes I even pick restaurants so she can get what she likes. She’s a big fan of McDonalds, likes Taco Bell, but isn’t fond of Chinese.

We have manicure days. She hates having her nails clipped, so I bought a Dremel tool and grind them down for her. Allergies often affect paws, so she needs to use special shampoo (expensive, special shampoo) on them, but she hates baths. So after we trim her nails, I dip her paws in a bowl of warm water, rub the shampoo in, then rinse and dry.

There have been many times I’ve turned down invitations because I like to spend the evenings with her after being gone all day at work.

My dad has never allowed dogs in his room. Ever - not any of the 3 we had when I was growing up. My dog sleeps between he and Mom, under the covers, when we go to visit.

We took classes so that she could indulge her social nature. We got through 2 obedience classes then 2 agility sessions. We were really good, but she seemed more interested in playing with the other dogs so I decided not to take more classes.

Instead, I enrolled her in doggie daycare! On Tuesdays, I’d drop her off on the way to work, and she could play with her canine friends inside and out while I spent time at the office. She loved it at first.

Then she started hating it for some reason. I was worried about her one day – I think I called them 4 times to check on her. I finally left work early to go get her, though they had told me she was fine. She’d been scratching at the door to leave and I threw a fit (again, seriously. I know.) because if they’d told me, I would have come to get her immediately.

She didn’t go back, and I remain irritated that they let her be sad rather than letting me come early.

If I’m sitting on the loveseat and she sits next to me, then needs more room, she’ll start pushing me with her paws. I usually move to the couch.

When I was in grad school, we lived very close to a WalMart. So I’d stop a lot to pick up random things. I always brought her a toy. She’d promptly shred it. I’d throw it away, and tell her I’d get another one next time I shopped.

I could think of more if I tried, but I think you see my point. So while you’re all figuring out how to warn anyone who might consider having children with me at any point in the future, I’ll mention that I do discipline her. There are times I don’t want her around, and vice versa. I also know that many of these behaviors are a bit eccentric, but, well, she’s a dog. It’s not like I’m trying to create a responsible member of society. I like trying to make her happy, so I do it.

The point is that I’m extremely fond of animals. I want to take care of them. Make sure they’re pampered and happy. So the mouse stuff? It still bugs me. I think I’m terribly ill-suited to do it.

So Charlie says to remember it’s important. (Charlie and I, by the way, are currently mortal enemies [arch nemeses now that I’m publishing this days after starting it] over some college football loyalties. So I think I lost my best resource in trying to deal with this mouse stuff. Honestly though, I feel pretty strongly about my team and Charlie refuses to fall in line. What am I supposed to do?!) I think I can do that – focus on the end goal and let the horror recede in favor of remembering why these studies matter.

So when Joe told me to schedule some practice time to get more comfortable, I knew I wouldn’t do it. Practice isn’t profound enough for me. I can’t walk over, put the little guys into another cage, walk them across campus covered with a garbage bag, do the experiment, then send them off to die. Can’t do it. Won’t do it.

Joe sent email while I was writing this asking if I was going to be OK. I went into considerable more detail here than I did with him, but the end answer is the same.

I really don’t know.

Or I told myself that I didn’t, writing this 2 days ago. Then I read it again – thought about the over-the-top weird facets that form my personality. I really like animals – that’s always been a big deal.

So, at 4AM Monday morning, I sat with my laptop and considered myself. I can do the animal work – I made it through a session with a good deal of composure. So my gratitude to Charlie remains – he turned a question of ability into a debate over preference. For me, that was a vital step.

In asking myself if I want to do this – learn the techniques, grow more comfortable with the small animals, start to consider them as research tools rather than sweet, furry creatures – I discovered I don’t. I have extreme amounts of respect for people who do this work – I think it’s unquestionably important and think you’re amazing if you participate. I choose not to, and I think my colleagues were relieved to finally have the decision they could see me heading toward.

It was an important process for me, and I learned a great deal. Waves of relief wash over me in knowing I don’t have to force myself to continue. Unfortunately, this decision takes away a career option – the path that was to lead me out of academia went straight through animal work. So this step off that path means a new evaluation of where I’m going.

But we’ll get to that later.