Since I’m mostly doing something else this week, I’ll talk about two mice. I didn’t see either, but I did hear one; and that’s the one I’ll start with.
The Resident Mouse and Me: Another San Francisco Memory
I was working at Pellegrini Refrigeration’s office/warehouse for most of the time I lived in San Francisco. The office section was big enough for — a dozen or more folks, I suppose.
The break corner, between the front office where I worked and the main room, was just an L-shaped bench, wrapped around a small table: very basic. It wouldn’t have held more than maybe four or five people comfortably.
I had the place to myself, except when a technician or salesman came through. Which suited me fine, although that’s why my employer hadn’t found anyone who’d work there more than a week or so before quitting.
Anyway, that break corner was good enough for me as another place to sit while eating lunch. More than good enough. I had room for whatever I was eating, a cup of coffee, and whatever I was reading.
Just Another Quiet Day, Until —
I’d been eating and reading, sitting on the bench with my back against the wall shared by the offices and the warehouse. The place had its usual tranquil ambience. Then I shifted my right foot. Just a little.
That’s when I heard, down by my right foot, a high-pitched but sincere scream.
Not a squeak. A scream.
Followed by the sound of frantic skittering: first toward the wall I’d been sitting against, then along the wall toward the back of the office/warehouse.
As the skittering faded into the distance, it fell into a rhythm: ‘skitter-skitter-skitter-THUMP-skitter-skitter-skitter-THUMP….’
The wall was finished on my side, but had open wooden studs on the other. The mouse apparently had access to the offices under the bench, but preferred the less-occupied warehouse side for retreat. And was running along the wall, hitting each stud on the way.
And at mouse-scale, my shoe would have been the size of a truck.
From the mouse’s viewpoint, it probably seemed a stable part of the environment, like the table legs. Until it moved!!!!
Judging by the sound, I’m guessing the mouse was right next to my shoe when I shifted my foot. Can’t say I blame the little critter for screaming.
Encounter in the Library
The other ‘mouse story’ is from my father’s experience. Back then, the MSU library had a card catalog: dozens and dozens of drawers packed with three-by-five inch cards that helped folks find books.
Actually, it was the data on the cards, and how it was sorted: and that’s another topic.
The point is that there had to be a lot of room for people in front of those banks of drawers. And even then it could get crowded, if lots of us were making similar searches.
After hours, on the other hand, there’s nothing quite so empty as a library. Particularly after the lights are out.
That brings me to my father’s mouse.
He’d come — my father, that is, not the mouse — to the library in off-hours, I don’t remember why, with some other folks. It was after sunset, so they’d been turning on lights as they entered different areas.
When they got to the card catalog area, they noticed that they weren’t alone.
For humans, when there isn’t a crowd, the card catalog had abundant elbow room.
For a mouse, it would have been an immense void. With a linoleum floor, that gives pretty good traction for our shoes: and almost none to a mouse’s tiny claws.
That night, there was a mouse on the floor. Yards away from a wall or any other shelter.
“More Haste, Less Speed”1
The mouse was running with the energy of an Olympic sprinter, moving with the speed of a lethargic turtle. If it had slowed down and started walking, it would have made faster progress. But it would have taken great presence of mind to realize that.
If the lights going on hadn’t started the mouse running, the humans’ arrival did.
That’s where my memory of Dad’s account ends, and so does this week’s post.
Except for the usual links to more stuff:
- “A Tale of Two Customers”
(April 26, 2025) - “A Cat, a Dog, and a Reflective Chain-Link Fence”
(April 5, 2025) - “My Oak Tree and Its Travels”
(March 1, 2025) - “A Dog Named Ulysses”
(January 4, 2025) - “Animals, Consciousness, and Conscience”
(June 29, 2024)
1 The proverbial saying goes ‘way back:
- Wikipedia
Mice rushing by is something I’m familiar with, but I don’t think I’m familiar with mice doing any vocalizing that’s close to screaming. So far, I imagine that screaming to be a prolonged squeak.
As far as I could tell and remember, it was the sound I’ve heard other mice make: “a prolonged squeak”, as you said, and loud. Quite loud. 🙂