The second rat had never back to its home

This morning, we found the second rat visiting our bedroom. I gave it a beautiful name---Mickey.

Over the next few hours I never stopped speaking to Mickey because I felt very nervous than him when we saw each other at that time. When it got dark, my girlfriend and I found a comparative simply method to deal with it, a trap for catching rats what is full of strong adhesive on the surface. The result indicated that this device is very effective that Mickey was caught and lay down the bed of death under our wills within two hours. I ventured to approach it with an intention to take the first photo, and exactly, the last one for it while it was living. Mickey found me, I told to it with a tongue-in-cheek tone “Hey, Mickey, take easy. I won’t hurt you”. Then I found it is not suitable that I crack a joke to it on this occasion when I confirmed it felt very nervous and started to struggle. Maybe Mickey did not think that it is worth costing its life to please me.

Before I pressed the shutter, I was frightened by it or we could say that the behavior when a life facing to the death did that. Yes, I was scared. I felt I was a killer at once, the killer in my article just wrote down in here yesterday evening who like enjoy the death of others. I was scared for that the soul of Mickey would turn into an evil power to retaliate me after I put it to death in this way.

And then, I had a good sad weep because of my bloodiness and such puny life as rats. I killed it without a clear reason. Mickey lay down the “bed” helplessly with some useless struggle. I stared at its’ eyes and found there was no animosity. Yes, no animosity.

As a Buddhist, I begin to repent now although sometimes I don’t do this. When we treasure our own lives more and more, the existence rights of other species are trampled by us. Is that the meaning of life? I don’t know how to describe my feeling now. Recalling the time of more that ten hours I spent with Mickey, I’ve got a feel that I doom the loveliest friend of me to the hell. I recognized that all shrifts raised by me were so nonsensical and knew one thing clearly---It’s my fault.

Sorry, Mickey!