Mouse Toe

No, not camel toe. Pervs. Mouse Toe. I indeed have a broken toe that originated from a mouse.

(Left set of feet, right foot, second toe - pure guilt in the streets of Antigua, Guatemala)

It's a sad story from my youth yet a constant reminder every time I take off my socks, get a pedicure, put on my flip flops, etc. Sometimes I look that broken toe right in the eye and take a picture of it without hiding it. I mean, the mouse lost it's life and I gained an ugly, disfigured toe. I feel the humility is earned. What's even worse? I can't even remember the mouse's name...

(Right set of feet, right foot, second toe - pure guilt on the coast)

When I was in grade school I had pet mice. I also had pet cats. It's not the easiest combination especially when you had determined cats like mine yet mice like mine that had freedom. Once a day I would take a mouse out for a walk out in our front yard. Not joking - I treated those mice good! I'd give them peanut butter jars, build them mouse forts and took extra measure to protect them from my cats.

One of these extra measures was to put a five pound dumbbell on top of their hard wire top. Something way too heavy for curious claws to flip off. So picture this: 10-year-old Krista, home from church on a sunny day with the impulse to share that sunny day with her beloved white mouse. Young Krista takes the dumbbell and places it on top of her dresser and takes her mouse out of the cage. She's just about to put her mouse on her shoulder (the mouse's preferred mode of travel is not in hand of course) and before she can make this hand to shoulder exchange the dumbbell, falls hard, on her toe. And that's where things went bad...

(Post-hike, right foot, 2nd toe - pure guilt and mangled feet on the Pacific Crest Trail parking lot)

So young Krista had no idea what struck her at first but it was pain, pure unexpected pain. She does the silent scream accompanied with the full body tension. You know what was tense the most on Krista? Her fists. Especially her left fist with her precious mouse inside it. Once she realizes what happens she looks at her mouse and sees it's head sticking straight up with the life squeezed vertically out of him. She tries to run out of her room but can only hop on one foot down the hallway to her family. Each hop is accompanied with the climbing realization of the situation: She broke her toe and killed her mouse. So of course as soon as she sees her family she cries "I broke my toe and I killed my mouse!" They just stare at her. For some reason, she throws the mouse at their feet. Don't ask me why - I'm big Krista, I can only speak so much for young Krista.

(Right foot, 2nd toe - pure guilt shared with the sea stacks)

The rest of the day was a blur. Her brother buried her mouse in thet pet cemetary and her Dad had her soak her foot in cold water. Then hot water. Then cold water. Dad was pretty determined that young Krista's toe wasn't broken and that all it needed was hot/cold water treatment and then she can run it off. A week later the doctor disagreed and my grotesque, broken toe was born. Ever since the bone sticks up vertically to the sky just like her mouse's head when she squeezed the life out of it. It even rubs against the top of her shoes and breaks the skin. No, it's not a blister, it's mouse punishment that you see on the top of my second toe.

I found a picture of this mouse on the internet. Look how fragile and trusting it is. Just like I'm sure my mouse was. I personally revoked my rights of mouse ownership after that day.

But while were on the subject - I should really expand this story and tell of how much my parents refused to take me to the doctor growing up: Walk it off, rub dirt in it, soak it in water, put a cold towel on your forehead, etc. I even had to steal my Mom's credit card and drive myself to the doctor with a 104 temperature after 3 days of putting a "cold towel" on my forehead. But, I digress.

RIP Mouse-whose-name-I-can't-remember. There will never be another...