The mouse is dead.
She seemed to be a sweet little thing, but she created destruction, distraction and extra work wherever she went. I would have preferred to set her free, but her fears blinded her to the open door to the world and so trapped where she didn’t belong by panic the only solution was her demise.
The mouse was a metaphor for my hiding in the details, getting distracted in the little things, often creating more work and missing what is important – the door to the world and freedom. The mouse is dead.
Is the mouse in you distracting you from the freedom of living fully too?