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RIP Darcy
My mouse Darcy died yesterday.
She developed a tumour on her right hind leg, and when it started to look really bad, I took her to the vet to be put down. The decision was made soberly, but when it came time to hand her over, I broke down in tears. I didn’t want her to suffer any more, but I also wanted to hang on to her just a bit longer, because I didn’t want to part with her. That was the most difficult part.
I couldn’t bear to stay and watch the vet put her down. Instead I went outside to sob my heart out.
It was horrible bringing back an empty carrier box, to a room with an empty cage that would never again have an occupant. As I cleaned and dried her cage and accessories for the last time, I just kept crying, remembering how she would run on her wheel or perch on her cube, and how she loved sleeping in her toy car.
Tim is the only one left now, and after he’s gone, I’m giving up mouse-keeping. The breeding lines available in Singapore are far too tumour-prone, and Malaysia isn’t much better. I suppose one day, I could fly to the US and search out a reputable breeder to help me start my own colony, but that won’t be for a very long time.
I’ll miss the clacking sound of Darcy’s wheel as it hit the side of her tank. I’ll miss watching her run and marvelling at how good her stamina was. I miss her gentle and shy nature. I miss her now that she’s joined Kip on the big wheel in the sky.
Goodbye Darcy. You were a good mouse.
In Loving Memory
Darcy
May 2007 - 9th June 2008
God’s most beautiful creatures
If I were being interviewed and was asked this question: “What do you think are God’s most beautiful creatures?”, I would probably reply “Christian fundamentalists, because they believe in their God and teachings to the exclusion of logic and common sense. God must be so pleased that His creations love him so much.”
Nah, just kidding. No one’s ever going to interview me, and that’s supposed to be a satirical answer, anyway.
God’s most beautiful creatures are dogs.
Firstly, their name is an anagram of His.
Secondly, they’re so loving and non-judgmental, which is what God-fearing people should aspire to be, no?
My next-door neighbour, meaning the dude who has the room next to mine, has an Alaskan Malamute. They’re naturally beautiful dogs on their own, with an attractive colouring and lush fluffy coat. But what makes the dog so darn lovable is that he gravitates towards people.
I was in the kitchen pouring myself milk when I heard someone enter. I didn’t think much of it, then something bumped up against my butt and I knew it was the dog. He had exited his room to come and see what I was up to. And later, as I left the house, he poked his head out of his room so I could wave him goodbye. How could you not love a dog like that?
God got it right first time with the canines.
Cockblocked!
Last night I put Tim into Darcy’s cage so they could have a playdate. They both live alone, so I didn’t want them to turn into mouse recluses.
Everything went well for about 20 minutes, they each ran around doing their own thing, then settled down for a grooming session. It was so cute seeing Tim’s little hand-like paws pressing down Darcy’s fur as he groomed her head.
I left them for a little while, until I heard very loud squeaking. “Very loud” is a relative term, since mice, being very small, can only be so loud. But considering that they’re also silent most of the time, squeaking of any sort is very loud for them. The cause of the noise: Tim had mounted Darcy and she was not receptive of his amorous advances.
I leapt up from the bed, opened the tank cover and shooed Tim off, then tried to capture him with his favourite Brand’s box. This manoeuvre failed, because he had chewed a big hole in the bottom of the box. I didn’t want to hand-capture him because he has a history of biting me (usually after provocation) and he had just been interrupted, so he had a brilliant reason to bite me. Eventually I picked up the ceramic cube with him inside, and sent him back to his bachelor pad. Playdate over!
Poor Darcy. Her guest tried to date-rape her. And poor Tim. After I returned him to his cage, he went to his food bowl and started stuffing his face. Perhaps he figured that since he’s not going to get laid, he might as well eat all he wants and never mind weight-watching.
I never thought I’d have to say this, but: I cockblocked a mouse!
On another note, I wonder how animals know the mechanics of copulation. Tim has lived with me since he was 3 weeks old - that makes him a child when he was separated from his mother and sisters. Presumably no one has ever shown any p0rn or instructed him, yet he knows what to do. I didn’t know instinct was so strong - I mean, how do you know WHAT to insert WHERE? Plus, this sheds light on why the panda p0rn initiative didn’t work all that well. They either know, or they don’t.
Pet Shop Service Grade: C
Ever since getting the mice, I think I’ve been to pet shops more times than I’ve been in clothing shops. Really really. And I’ve had plenty of opportunity to experience their retail service firsthand.
I’m a member at the chain of pet shops known as Pet Lovers’ Centre, plus they have 2 outlets within easy reach of me, so I often go there. Unfortunately, service at these places is also the worst I’ve ever seen. 
My most recent quest was to check out the Habitrail Ovo Maze extension, since Tim keeps escaping from his box and he’s currently imprisoned by an improvised plastic wrap cover. So I went to Vivocity over the weekend.
The staff member I asked for help didn’t even speak English. Sure he understood me, but to have someone who doesn’t speak English, at the largest branch that gets lots of non-Chinese-speaking customers, is frankly a dumb move. Maybe he wasn’t supposed to deal with customers directly, but how am I supposed to know whom I should approach? Anyway he didn’t know what item I was talking about, but they didn’t have it anyway.
Next I tried the Holland Village branch. This was an especially bad experience. The staff were eating their lunch right at the counter. And it wasn’t even their fault - I overheard one of the staff telling a regular customer that “management makes us eat on the job to increase efficiency”. That’s seriously awful - it reeks of unprofessionalism, plus it didn’t make them any more efficient since you had to wait for them to at least finish chewing.
Again, they didn’t have the item I wanted, so I asked if they could call up the other branches to check. I was right at the counter as they tried to do this, and one staff member was telling the other, “this item isn’t in stock, I know because I haven’t seen it” in Chinese. Hello! I’m standing right here, why don’t you tell me straight to my face? As it was, I waited for them to inform me of availability, but they didn’t seem to be doing anything except speak about my request as if I wasn’t standing right within earshot. So I gave up and walked away.
Oh, and while I was there, one staff member was discomfitedly trying to attend to a slightly annoyed Caucasian lady who complained that her dog had developed a mouth inflammation after eating their recommended (expensive) brand of dog food. Whoops!
Today I went to the Plaza Singapura branch, which is hidden in the basement and had only 2 staff members on duty. Nevertheless, they were very helpful and knowledgeable about the item, and even checked up on availability for me. When the other branch didn’t respond, the staff took down my number and subsequently called me. By that time, I had already checked out the item at the Centrepoint branch, but at least they tried.
Anyway I didn’t like the item. It looks good in the pictures but it felt a bit flimsy to me, and the moving parts just seemed like a tail accident waiting to happen. Plus at more than 40 dollars, it’s overpriced.
To be honest, I’ve yet to see a really knowledgeable and caring staff member at any of the branches. Smaller pet shops actually provide better service, in my opinion. When I bought Tim, the proprieter spent 15 minutes catching the mice and inspecting their rear ends for me. All for an animal that cost 3 dollars. Plus he gave me a discount on another item. I doubt anyone at Pet Lovers’ Centre would be so committed, not to mention the fact that they only sell expensive hamsters that cost double digits, and not pocket-change mice.
Liking animals alone doesn’t qualify you for a job at a pet shop. You need to know how to please their human owners as well. And I think the staff at Pet Lovers’ Centre need to learn this.
Pet Shop Precautions
I went to MidValley Megamall in KL today, to buy some stuff before I leave on the cruise. I made a detour to Pets Wonderland, the pet shop upstairs, to see if I could buy some Habitrail tubes for Tim’s cage. Of course I could buy other brands, but I like the Habitrail Mini tubes because they come apart for washing.
Of course I couldn’t resist taking a look at the animals. Dog area looked fine, no comments there. The cat enclosures seemed spacious and well-appointed, but it’s not all hunky-dory in there. A little girl was pointing out a white cat to her parents, then the cat looked up and revealed a swollen left eye. The child, in her innocence, asked her parents “what’s wrong with the cat’s eye?” I hope that left an impression on anyone who saw. There is no reason for an animal to be in less than perfect condition in a pet shop. If there’s something amiss, the quality of the pet care and living conditions should immediately be questioned. It wasn’t just one cat with an eye infection, a grey kitten in the corner cage had it as well.
They also had a couple of hedgehogs and a sugar glider, as well as the usual reptiles and some tarantulas. I’m very blasé about such things because I’ve been seeing them for sale for a very long time, plus Malaysia isn’t as strict on exotic pets as Singapore is.
The area of interest for me was the small animal section. They’ve revamped it since I was last there, there were more enclosures and the mice were on display. The mice were erroneously labeled as “white mice” when they were actually different colours. The proper term is “fancy mice”, to differentiate them from wild mice, but I suppose the general public only understands “white mice” as the usual “clean” pet mouse. Above them was the “satin mice” enclosure. I don’t see much difference between the 2 kinds, although the satin ones are supposed to have silkier coats (see here). The price difference for the 2 kinds is clear as day, though. “White” mice cost RM6 while “satin” mice cost RM20. Wow.
My biggest issue with the mice was the fact that they did not separate the sexes. The adult males were running around in the same tank as adult females, as well as some smaller mice whose sex I couldn’t determine (cos they were running around and I couldn’t see their rear ends). Even if no fighting occurs, usual policy is to separate the sexes, not just to prevent breeding but also to maintain the health of the animals. Females shouldn’t have more than 3 litters in their lifetimes, and 1 litter per lifetime is optimum. Raising babies is terribly stressful, and it’s not any easier when male mice want to hump the females right after they’ve given birth. Plus, how healthy can babies be if they’re born to an overworked mother?
It’s also a consumer issue. You won’t want to buy mice, especially female mice, from a place that doesn’t separate the sexes. Some people may think it’s good value to get a whole litter for the price of one mouse, but those who intend to keep them as pets won’t see it that way. The babies will just end up abandoned, and that’s assuming they survive, since stressed-out mothers will eat or maim their babies. Considering that most buyers will be first-time mouse owners, how many of them will know how to handle a mouse and her newborns?
I think Pets Wonderland doesn’t bother taking good care of the small animals, since the hamsters also seem to be all lumped together. Small animals are harder to sex than cats and dogs, but that just means they should get someone with experience to separate them instead of making excuses. Heck, I wanted to offer to sex and separate their mice, but their staff have that “I just work here” look, so talking to them probably wouldn’t have done much good anyway.
It wouldn’t be hard to sex mice, and it would make life easier when someone wants to buy mice, because then you’d know which tank had which sex. So if someone wanted 2 female mice, you’d just take them to the females’ tank and let them choose 2. See, simple. But I guess Pets Wonderland is more interested in making money out of foolish humans than it is in safeguarding the value of their products. It really pisses me off, but what can I do except complain?
Spider-Mouse!
15th February 2008
Tim, my 5-week-old boy mouse, is apparently quite the acrobat.
I got both mice new “outside boxes” - open boxes where they can run about and watch me watch them - as well as a new cage setup for Tim. The boxes are practically escape-proof because they’re plastic, smooth, and the toys in the cage aren’t high enough to serve as platforms to the edge of the box.
Or so I thought.
A visitor put one of Tim’s toys in an upright position, allowing the little mousie a higher platform from which to survey the world. It appears that this increased height allowed Tim to somehow escape from his box and get into Darcy’s cage, because I heard squeaking from them last night and was utterly astounded to see both mice in the same cage. I removed Tim and went back to work.
30 minutes later, he was back in. Again I removed him, and retired for the night.
Guess who went for a sleep-over at Darcy’s place during the night.
I turned the toy back into a horizontal position. I left it as it is in the hopes of catching Tim in the act, but since I can’t be watching them all the time, I decided to play it safe and end his escapades. Looking at the toy and the height of the box, you’d think he couldn’t have jumped that high. And I doubt that he climbed up the outside of the tubes, because they’re way too smooth and slippery and he’s no gecko.
But as I learned last night, underestimate Tim at your own peril.
Update: 22nd February 2008
I awoke this morning to pick up on some motion in the corner of my eye. I turned to my right, where my guitar bag is, and saw a mouse running down the black fabric.
To say I was shocked may be a bit of an underestimation. So the first thing I did this morning was chase a tiny 6-week-old mousie around the room. Eventually he went into his little box, and I returned him to his cage. He immediately went to his water bottle and drank for a good long while.
I don’t know how long he was outside, but I hope he learned a lesson. There’s nothing out there for him to eat or drink, so he’s much better off inside the cage. Certainly he didn’t try escaping again for the rest of the day, but maybe he was just way too tired.
Just to make sure, though, I covered his open box so he can’t jump out any more. What shall he do next? I have no idea.
Itsy-bitsy mousie Part 2
LBM turned out to be male. Its name is now Tim. Props to anyone who can spot the Monty Python reference.
Anyway, I now need to get a 2nd cage and accessories because not only don’t I want more mice, Darcy is too old to give birth and she doesn’t seem to enjoy Tim’s amorous attentions. It seems a bit wrong anyway, it’s like a 13-year-old boy going after a 40-year-old woman. Yeah, gross.
Tim grew bigger in the 5 days that I wasn’t in the country, and his testicles practically ballooned. They’re so huge they’re probably twice the size of his brain. Hehehe. Looks like I shall have to stop calling him itsy-bitsy soon.
Itsy-bitsy mousie Part 1
Since Kip died, her cagemate Darcy has been alone. Female mice kept alone tend to get depressed, so acquiring a new companion for Darcy was of utmost importance. After a fruitless search in Serangoon North, I found baby mice in Tampines. They were about 3 weeks old and I couldn’t determine their sex. Male mousies don’t drop their testicles until about 5 weeks.
In the end I took a gamble and picked out one that had the highest chance of being female (details here). It was a tiny white-and-grey creature with red eyes. I tend not to like red eyes, but all of them had that trait so I didn’t have much choice.
Since I can’t tell its sex, I’m holding off on naming it. For now, I shall call it Little Baby Mouse (LBM). When I took it home, Darcy seemed not to even notice it. She sniffed its butt for a bit until the tiny thing squeaked, then she just went about her usual business as though nothing was new. She was eating and running and climbing up and down, so depression didn’t seem to be affecting her.
On Friday, Darcy discovered that LBM had a shoebox to itself, full of exciting possibilities. She started spending more time down there, but she always ran off when she saw me, probably because I told her off for scaring LBM. Apart from eating the baby’s food, she continued with her carefree life. I couldn’t fathom if she just wasn’t interested, if she was the one rare female mouse who enjoyed the solitary life, or if she didn’t realize that there was a new mouse around. The last possibility was highly unlikely since the squeaking should have clued her in.
On Friday night, I finally saw her grooming LBM. Grooming is a social habit among mice, so I was greatly reassured by this development. Furthermore, LBM gathered up the courage and the strength to venture up the tube leading to the main cage. Since the diameter of the tube is very wide in relation to its body, LBM had a hard time climbing up, but the exercise will be good for it. It’s a little amusing to see it struggling up the pipe that Darcy zips up and down easily. When Darcy first came, she had trouble with the pipes too. Don’t worry little baby, you’ll soon grow!
LBM is so insanely tiny that the people who see it have a jaw-drop moment at the sight of such a small, perfectly independent creature. To put its size in perspective, I took some pictures of it with ordinary household objects.
It’s as big as my key-tag!
It’s as big as my key! Which, by the way, is the key to a small padlock - I use it to lock my wardrobe drawer.
And the most jaw-dropping picture:
That, my friends, is a baby mouse inside a Brand’s Chicken Essence bottle. Yes, not only can it fit, it’s sitting in there eating seeds and grooming itself! (i.e. being perfectly happy, I didn’t abuse it or anything)
And now for an “awww” moment: Darcy and LBM.
Reminds me of when Darcy first arrived, and Kipley was twice her size. *sniff*
Sunday, 3rd February 2008:
LBM was in the main cage when I woke up. This means that the little creature climbed out of its shoebox, up the tubes, and then down the tubes again into what may have seemed like paradise. The weather was very cold last night, perhaps it wanted to go somewhere warmer?
Anyway it seems to have discovered the food bowl and the drinking bottle, so I no longer have to put out separate food bowls and give it water by hand. It’s no longer picky about its food, I gave them cornflakes and they both took to it very well. For a little while all you could hear was the crunching of cornflakes and the occasional squeak as Darcy continued her food-snatching habits. LBM even nibbled on the soybean I put in the bowl, so there’s hope yet for converting both of them to a homemade diet instead of premixed food from the pet store.
I’m beginning to suspect that LBM is a male. It climbs readily onto my hand, since it’s so tiny that it can’t explore it otherwise. This gives me a chance to gently check its rear end, and I think I see a bulge that may be the scrotum. For all I know, the breeder already pre-selected the mice and sent nothing but male mice to the pet shop. Just my luck! I may have to seriously consider neutering if I don’t want to see more LBM soon.
RIP Kipley
My mouse Kipley died on Tuesday morning at around 3.15am, following surgery to remove a tumour.
This was her 3rd time going under, I guess this time she just didn’t wake up from the anaesthetic.
I just got back from the vet’s clinic, where I settled the bill for her surgery and cremation. It amused me slightly to see the itemised charge for the cremation as ‘exotic’. Perhaps she was considered an exotic pet, but to me she was just a mouse. Although it was pretty fun to see the people at the vet going wide-eyed at the sight of a pet mouse.
Tomorrow I’m going to get another mouse to keep Darcy company. Female mice don’t do the solitary life very well. In Kip’s absence, Darcy piled up her bedding in one corner and slept there, since there’s no more Kip to snuggle up to. No more Kip to snatch food from.
Kipley was my first mouse, and she had to come home in a small box while Darcy had a shoebox. Kip had to put up with getting jostled around in said box while I shopped for her new home. She loved the run-about wheel because she could go sniffing around my room, but she never went into it again after I negligently let her roll off the bed. -_-;;;
She was surprisingly tolerant of Darcy’s food-snatching habits, and she was adventurous while Darcy is timid. She routinely climbed up my hands and even made the summit of Mount Shoulder several times, as well as a few ticklish expeditions down my leg.
She lived to be slightly over a year old - a short life even by mouse standards. The 5 months I spent with her started with a lot of trial and error on everything from bedding to food, and it ended with me a lot sadder, and wiser.
Goodbye Kip. You will be missed.
In Loving Memory
Kipley
2006-29th January 2008
The Kip and Darcy Comedy Troupe
moar funny pictures
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