The Unfortunate Events of Brenna: My mouse experience

To begin this unfortunate tail, (yes I did that on purpose), I must first admit that as a child, I was obsessed with “Dora the Explorer”. She was my idol as a kindergartner. I watched her show everyday after school, had themed birthday parties dedicated to her, and I wore the backpack while going on random adventures in our home-made forest. I even had short brown hair at one time, so technically I WAS Dora.

I had these fabulous Dora light-up Skechers that I wore all the time. One morning we were running late for the bus, my mother was the school bus driver and she had an early morning route, so we were hurrying to get ready to go.

As usual, I lost my shoes and swore that I looked high and low for them. I told my mom and she said, “If I find your shoes, you are in big trouble.” So of course I said that they were nowhere to be found, and she went upstairs to my room to find them.

Like moms do, she found my shoes within seconds and as I was standing at the bottom of the stairs she yelled, “They’re right here,” and threw them down the stairs.

When I looked up, it was too late, the shoes nailed me right in the nose. I had a horrible bloody nose and my mom felt terrible.

So where does the mouse come in you ask? Well, those same Dora Skechers were still my favorites and I started keeping them downstairs in the closet, so we couldn’t repeat the shoes-in-the-face fiasco.

We were almost late another time, and as mom and I were leaving the house, I grabbed my shoes and started shoving my feet in them. Something was inside the left shoe, keeping my foot from going in all the way. I told my mom who was already upset about being late. She took my foot and jammed it in all the way. I let out a small scream and she looked really concerned. As my foot hit the end of the shoe, it made a loud crunchy sound and a little squeal. I pulled my foot out of the shoe to find my sock covered in blood.

That’s right, I smashed a baby mouse with my bare foot. My mom was just as shocked as I was and took the mouse, chucking it into the bushes outside. After that horrifying event, I unfortunately had to throw out my Dora shoes. But at the same time, I never wanted to be reminded of that disgusting feeling of squishing a baby mouse ever again.

On the bright side, I always remember to check my shoes before I put my feet in them. It’s probably more of an instinct now since that happened so long ago. I haven’t had any other experiences with mice since then.


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