A Field Mouse
But he wasn’t dead when I went to inspect the rat trap, this morning. His back half was under the snap bar, and he was struggling to get loose. I felt awful for him. To put him out of his misery, I drowned him in a pail of water. Now I’m a murderer!
What makes this worse is the fact that we have befriended a couple of other ‘rodents’: Polly, the black squirrel; and Cheeky, the red squirrel. And we have a couple of chipmunks that we consider cute, too. But the idea of a rat in our garden was disconcerting. He doesn’t ‘belong’ here.
Which brings me to the point of this post: humans don’t ‘belong’ in Heaven, so when someone like Enoch gets promoted to the post of the ‘young’ YHWH, and is given the name Metatron, the angels objected. “This man was born of a woman, and is unclean,” they said. Ah, so…
Hierarchies are everywhere, including a heaven where the denizens are like us ordinary folk. They don’t want ‘outsiders’ fouling their cozy environment: in other words, like all [blankety blank] supremacists. We humans have made the angels into our own image.
Rats are smarter than humans: the trap set last night yielded it empty of food and the kill bar undisturbed. They know better than to step on the foot pad. Only field mice do that since they’re smaller. (When the Buddha sent a call out to the creatures on earth, the rat answered first.)
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