Rest in peace, little dude.
Who’s Lil’ Ralphy?
Lil’ Ralphy is the mouse that somehow made its way into the hallway of our apartment building. At first I wanted to give him to the cats to see what they would do. But something about the way he sat there with his paws folded, staring up at me, reminded me of the mouse on the cover of The Mouse and the Motorcycle.
And suddenly I wanted to keep him. Kyle insisted that we let him outside and started herding him towards the door, but I had other plans. I would catch him and make him a little nest in a shoe box lined with bits of fabric. We would become friends, and eventually he’d become friends with the cats, too, and he would let me pet him. And I’d feed him peanut butter sandwiches and make him a helmet from half a ping pong ball and a rubber band. And get him a motorcycle…
Unfortunately I was so busy thinking about all the awesome things Lil’ Ralphy (as he was called in my head) and I would do together that I failed to notice that Lil’ Ralphy had stopped on the stairs. And I kept going.
And I stepped on Lil’ Ralphy.
I knew what I’d done as soon as I’d done it. I shrieked, and Kyle said, “Oh god, Stephanie, you didn’t.” And I looked down, and there was Lil’ Ralphy on his back, with one leg kicking wildly. Luckily, I’d picked up my foot before I’d put my whole weight on him, but at the very least he had a broken leg. And I didn’t know what to do. Kyle scooped up the poor little mouse and deposited him into a bush, where hopefully he’d be safe from predators. And we went and got ice cream.
Hopefully Lil’ Ralphy’s mouse family was able to find him, and nurse him back to health. Maybe outfit him with a little black cast that all his friends could sign with a silver sharpie. And he’d tell all the mouse chics at the bar that he totally kicked our asses before one of us fell on him.
So here’s to Lil’ Ralphy, a badass motherfuckin’ mouse. At least in my head.