Monday, November 27, 2006

The Mighty Mouse

In the lab, I've been involved in the generation and characterization of a number of mouse models. Long story short, I've been around literally hundreds, if not thousands of mice breeding them, injecting them with stuff, checking for tumors, and if sick, euthanizing (CO2 inhalation) and dissecting them for analysis. I've had mice bite, pee, and poop on my hands (with gloves). I've been fingers deep in mouse guts with my face inches away from the body cavity trying to spot some interesting feature. I do it so often that I hardly think about it anymore.

Why is it then that a veritable "mouse guy" would be so afraid of a mouse in my house? (Disclaimer: I live in a huge old house with a big backyard that is prime breeding grounds for vermin; I'm not a dirty person, in general.) They manage to elude my mouse traps better than Houdini himself. The peanut butter trick has not been working. Usually, I just find their remnants (droppings), but occasionally I have a show-down with one of the critters. This usually involves my voice going up a few octaves, some expletives, an increase in blood pressure and heart rate, and a quick exit in the opposite direction. Why these feral rodents elicit such a contrasting response than my domesticated mice is still a mystery. Maybe its the psychological impression that wild mice are "dirty" whereas lab mice are kept in sterile housing with their bedding changed regularly (they spend most of their day either grooming or sleeping). Maybe its because they show up when I least expect them. Maybe I should just become a mouse myself.

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