The Prince

You were on TV last night, Prince,’  Veronica told me with a big smile on her face this morning. I have no idea what TV is, but when she tells me something like that it must be important.

I’m a mouse, not your ordinary, grey garden variety mouse, but a handsome, coffee brown  laboratory mouse. I have lived for about twenty months and I’m still going strong. The people looking after me promised me, that I will live longer than any other mouse in history.

Of all the people helping me to achieve this goal, I like Veronica best. She is so beautiful that I wish sometimes, I was not a mouse. But one can’t have everything and I don’t want to complain.

They only feed me every other day with really, really tasty morsels and as I overheard my team saying, it contains thirty-one special ingredients to boost my longevity. I just love the stuff. By the second day I’m so famished that I want to climb up the glass walls of my home. My home contains a small cabin in which I sleep far from prying eyes; a little pipe, through which I run every time I feel like it or in which I can play hide and seek with Veronica.

My glass home  has a treadmill too in which I exercise to my heart’s content. This exercise is important, Veronica told me a while ago, because exercise will facilitate the production of the molecule fractalkine which helps me not getting dementia. And who wants to have dementia when one lives for a very, very long time.

From time to time they give me female company but I’m not telling what we do together when we are alone. A gentleman knows how to keep a secret. But it seems, after they take my night companion away, Veronica knows what has happened.

She takes me out of my glass cage by lifting me up by my pretty long tail and tickles my tummy. Blood is rushing into my head and my eyes are nearly popping out. Then comes the big moment. She swings me up into the air, which is really exciting, and than drops me down on her other hand. This excites me so much that my whiskers start to vibrate and a drop of my golden urine falls onto her rubber glove.

‘You naughty boy, couldn’t contain yourself,’ she says with a grin and her red lips come very close to me and she pretends giving me a kiss.

‘I wish you were an ugly frog, Prince.‘ I have no idea why she wants me to be an ugly frog.

‘You have been amorous during the night. I know, you can’t tell me otherwise, because I have seen the plug.’ And then she laughs and laughs. That is how I know, that she knows.

Besides mine is another glass container. There are several other mice in it and a big sign tells the whole world it is a control group. They get some sort of nasty looking pellets for food. They don’t live long and disappear very quickly. The funny thing is, new ones appear from time to time out of a box, in there.

Sometimes they take me out and give me a complete check up. They weigh me, give me an injection, ‘Against Alzheimer’s,’ Veronica tells me and throws me into a basin full of water. This basin has a little step on one side and when I swim there to climb out Veronica exclaims, ‘He hasn’t forgotten, his brain still works!’

I don’t understand any of it, where else would I climb out? Veronica puts me into a tissue and dries me off. These are the happy moments of my life.

‘If I can get you to live to thirty-three month without the dreaded Alzheimer’s I can write my thesis on longevity and you will be the most famous mouse in all history, you, my Prince and not that silly Mickey Mouse.’

I love Veronica so much, that I want her to succeed.


5 thoughts on “The Prince

    • I’m not so sure. The “Prince” may have a good life but generally laboratory mice are being tortured and mishandled and this in the name of science. It is more in the search for a bug, not the creepy crawly variety but the Dollar one. not to help us.

  1. I am not so sure about this. If something could be found to prevent or slow down Alzheimer’s I think the ‘Prince’ could be proud to have helped us out. Do you believe there’s always mishandling and torture involved?

  2. “In the UK, as with all other vertebrates and some invertebrates, any scientific procedure which is likely to cause lasting distress or suffering is regulated by the Home Office . . . “

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