The Laptev Virus

“Well for some strange reason, the mice in our studies are not acting afraid of the stimulus. It’s quite puzzling,” he said.

“Yeah?” she said, reaching for her husband’s bottle of Shiner Bock beer and taking a small sip. “Maybe they’ve met the stimulus earlier?”

John scratched his chin thoughtfully. “I thought about that, and I checked their charts. They haven’t been used for any other behavioral studies.”

Sarah furrowed her eyebrows and reached for the carton of salad. “What about the handler? Could he or she have perhaps done something differently to them?”

“Actually, now that you mention it, we do have a different handler. A young woman, Molly, I think, is her name. I haven’t actually met her yet, but apparently she’s been filling in occasionally for the last several months.”

“Molly Greenburg?” asked Sarah, wiping her hands on a paper towel. “Oh, I really like her. She’s great with the little ones. She’s a regular for us. Kevin swears that the mice behave better when she tends to them. I wonder what she’s doing in your section of the vivarium?”

“It would seem that Trevor, our usual handler, has a huge project for his grad classes. I guess she must need the extra hours. So she’s been covering

“You know, I’ve heard that mice behave differently depending on whether it’s a male or a female who’s handling them,” she said, pointing at him with her crust.

John had finished his slice and reached for another, sprinkling on the hot seeds as he spoke. “Oh, I don’t know about that. Do you think they can tell whether it’s a male or a female who’s feeding them? And why would they even care?”

“No, it’s true. I read a report saying that male handlers made the mice more nervous, and could even lead to results that were quite different from those expected if the mice weren’t feeling anxiety. So maybe since the handler has changed, they feel so relaxed that they aren’t reacting to things that would normally make them afraid.”

John scowled. “Well, maybe in some situations, but Trevor is gentle. I’ve seen him with them. And he has a lot of experience since he’s been doing this since he was an undergrad. Plus, I still don’t think it could possibly make a difference. But in any case, something is definitely wrong. I’ve got this one group that’s acting differently from the rest. All of the mice in that group seem to be drawn to the corner of the cage where we sprinkled some drops of cat urine. It’s really odd because they should be shrinking away from that corner.”

“Maybe they just like the smell of urine?”

“No, I mean, maybe they do, who knows, but it doesn’t make any sense. We put other types of urine in the cage too. We have one corner with cow urine, one with dog, and one with bear urine. All the groups stay far away from the corner with the cat’s urine, but not this group. Every mouse in that group goes and hangs out in the corner with the cat’s pee. They don’t like any of the other urine smells, just the cat’s. I don’t get it!”

Sarah closed the pizza box, which was now empty, and walked it over to the plastic Fiesta grocery store bag that they kept for their trash. It was hanging on the inside of the cupboard door, just under the sink. She dropped the box to the floor and stepped on it carefully with her good foot to squash it, while holding onto the cabinet to keep her balance. It would not do to hurt her ankle again. Then she retrieved it and folded it a couple of times so that it would fit in the small brown plastic bag. She stuffed it in and then closed the door and returned to the table.

“I don’t know. Are the mice younger or older than the others? Is there a chance that they’ve all lost their sense of smell for some reason? Or could the researcher have mixed up the urine samples for that group?”

“All good questions, my dear Dr. S.,” said John, now getting up and walking to the freezer. He stood there another minute, then pulled out a pint of Graeter’s coconut chocolate almond ice cream, which he held up for Sarah to see. She grinned and he walked to the pantry for cones. It was their Friday night tradition. “Well, we’ll look into it some more on Monday.”

CHAPTER 12

“Have a seat, thanks for coming up here. How’s your leg?” asked Rhonda. Then, without giving Sarah a chance to answer, she dove into the rest of her thought. “Listen, I know I just asked a few days ago, but, how is that research coming along?”

Sarah could hear the strain in Rhonda’s voice. Apparently the weekend had been too short for her.

“We’re still making pretty good progress, but nothing really new to report since last Thursday,” said Sarah. After Rhonda had dropped in on her meeting unannounced last week, Sarah had promised to continue to update her in a timely manner. But it was only Monday, so not much had happened in the lab. If Rhonda continued asking for updates every two days, Sarah thought, it would quickly become annoying.