Where there is Buddha...

In our old house, the Buddha statue and the mouse lived in the bathroom. In our new house, the Buddha statue is on the kitchen window sill, and it so happens that in our new house, the mouse also happens to live in the kitchen. I saw him one night scurry across the floor when we came home after dinner. Then I heard him behind the oven when I got up in the middle of the night to get a glass of water. Kent went ahead and set the trap. No luck the first night. But last night, we got ourselves a mouse.

Our new house also comes with a house cleaner and gardener for three and half hours in the afternoon; they oblige us and do whatever heinous thing we ask, so when we set off this morning, we left the mouse in the trap for the gardener, Wayan, to deal with. We came home this afternoon after Wayan had taken care of the mouse. Happy to see that the mouse was gone, Kent asked what Wayan did with the mouse - if only because we wanted to make sure the little rascal wasn't going to come back.


Wayan said he soaped it.
"Soaped it?" Kent asked.
"Yes." Wayan said. "I soaped it."
"What do you mean, you soaped it?"
"In water. I put the mouse in water then I soaped it." Wayan said.
"You put the mouse in water and then shocked it?" Kent asked.
Wayan looked blank for a minute.
"Wow." Kent said. "Harsh."
"Damn." I said. "Hindu much? At least you're not worried about your karma."
"No no," Wayan protested, "I just soaped it."
The light bulb went on.
"Oh, you soaked it. We call that drowning." Kent said.
"Droaning." Wayan repeated.

Ten minutes after Wayan left for the day, I walked into the kitchen to put our afternoon coffee cups in the sink. Standing at the sink, I heard that distinct rustling sound in the trash that can only mean one thing: a brown mouse like rodent scampered out of the trash can and across the floor of the kitchen. I can't help it, but I scream when I see a mouse. Kent says it's girlie; I think it's instinctual. I also have a hope if I scream loud enough, the mouse will run faster to the place where I can't see it. I also have a tendency to shake my fist at the running rodent and holler, "You're supposed to be nocturnal! Scamper and steal when I am sleeping!" Can't say that it's my finest moment when I catch mice in the house. And I certainly don't act like someone who was raised by an Eagle Scout or like someone who then grew up and married an Eagle Scout.

Sissy to the core.

Alas, whether Wayan soaped, shocked or soaked it, the mouse has either quickly reincarnated or he took care of reproducing before biting it in a bucket of water. Either way, Kent is setting another trap before going to bed and I am removing Buddha from the mouse's protection. Kent says I can't blame the resiliency of mice on Buddha, that Buddha, by nature, is blameless simply because he is Buddha. Kent says this in that tone of voice of his where he wishes I would occasionally act more enlightened than I actually am.

Maybe it is just a coincidence that where there is Buddha, there is a mouse. But tonight, I plan on going to bed and dreaming of the house cat I will get to replace Buddha. I might even name the cat after Buddha. Just as long as the cat likes mice.