Mice

So there's a little tension in the house. I am getting softer living here in Bellingham. My housemate wants to get those sticky mouse traps that are basically barbaric (in my opinion) and forces the mouse to die slowly and painfully. So instead, I put a tube teetering on the edge of the table with peanut butter at the end. When the mouse walks through the tube to eat the PB, it will fall into a bucket. It's even locally made peanut butter.

Why do we decide the chickens and dog get treated with the utmost consideration and decency, while the mice must die? Where so we draw the line? I guess I draw that line at being with lungs that I choose not to kill for food. But whatever makes me feel warm and fuzzy inside.

Fortunately, I am not exposed to too much pain or suffering in my life. But Unfortunately, I live in a country that feels it is their duty to impose their political and socioeconomic views and ways upon other nations, even if it means killing a million of them, or so, in the process. I am reading an interesting book that discusses this at length. But enough of that.

A day ended at the park sleeping in the grass a few feet from the water while the noises of people all around enjoying the weather filled my head. I intended on flying my kite, but there was no wind. So I slept instead in the setting.