Last
month, after I heard a mouse escaping from a trap we had set, I posted a
Facebook comment about it. Beginning
below is the resulting story. It is a
rough draft, not finished yet. But for those who helped me write the story by
commenting on my post, I present this as is.
Please let me know what you think.
How can I make it better? If you
who commented before do not see your piece of the story, it is coming next
time.
A Tale of a Mouse’s Foot
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| How Big, How Strong does a mouse have to be to pull a mousetrap up and out of a drawer and drop into the space below before escaping on three feet? Well, let me tell you all about it. |
To get away from the wind a cold,
Father and Mother Mouse decided to squeeze into a cozy area just under the Big
House. “This will be the perfect place
to set up housekeeping,” exclaimed Mother as she waddled about.
“I’ll begin making a cozy nest right
away so you can rest,” replied Father as he scurried around looking for bits of
this and that.
“I hope there are no cats around,”
worried Mother. “It would be nice to not
have to worry about being caught as we forage for food.”
“When we run out of the seeds I
brought with us, I’ll go scout around at night.
It will be safer under cover of darkness,” Father offered.
A few days later Father ventured
forth, climbing up into a drawer lined with soft cloths. “Ahhh,” he said, marking his territory. “These may come in handy. I wish I would’ve known they were here when I
was building the nest. Oh well, future
reference and all that.”
Father climbed over the side of the
drawer and into a cupboard full of cleaning supplies. “Not much here,” he commented sourly.
On he went into the adjoining cupboard
where there were a few crumbs to be had.
“Enough for tonight,” he commented as he retraced his steps with a
mouthful of crumbs.
The next two nights foraging wasn’t
much better. “These Two-leggeds are way
too clean,” he complained to Mother when he returned with a pittance of
crumbs. “You need more food after all
you are eating for many.”
That night Mother Mouse welcomed their
new young into the cozy nest. Father was
very proud of the brood; but worried about food, he left on another foraging
trip without any more success than earlier in the night. He didn’t tell Mother he had smelled Cat.
The next few days proved difficult
indeed. Father, left the cozy area under
the Big House and went foraging elsewhere, but the wind always drove him back
before he had found much food. “Poor,
Mother,” he worried. “What, oh, what can
I do to ease her hunger pangs. She has
all those mouths to feed. Oh, dear, oh
dear…”
Finally Father decided to go through
the drawer again, which proved to be a decidedly wrong decision. As Father stepped into the drawer, he noted
the soft cloths were gone but saw there in front of him the biggest piece of
cheese he had ever seen. “This is more
like it!” he muttered going for the cheese which proved to be fake. “OUCH!” he screamed and something hit his
foot.
It was a metal bar that had caught his
foot and held it tight. Excruciating
pain shot up through his leg. Using his
front feet and his one good back foot, Father crawled to the edge of the
drawer. He was being too noisy, he
knew. The strong smell of Cat just on
the other side of the drawer drove him onward.
Up over the edge banging the trap as he climbed. Something banged on the drawer and Father
smelled a Two-legged. He panicked and in
that moment went hurtling over the side of the drawer into the space
below. As he landed the metal bar
released the tiniest bit and Father escaped leaving behind his toes and a pool
of blood.
As Mother nursed his poor damaged
foot, he wondered aloud, “Do you think I could write a story and become famous
like the one we saw in that book we used a while back to make a nest in the
other building?”
“What book?” Mother looked up from
washing his mangled foot.
“Ouch.
Umm, please could you be a little gentler?”
“We have to get it clean!” scolded
Mother. “Think about that book to take
your mind off the pain.”
“Oh right. I think it was called something like Between
a Rock and Hard Place or something like that.”
“Oh that one,” stated Mother. “It did make a good nest. It was big enough to just snuggle right down
inside once you chewed out a good place. Did you actually read some of it?”
“Yes,” admitted Father. “That Two-legged who wrote it, Aron Ralston,
he cut off his arm to save himself. It
was a cliff hanger. I wonder if I could
tell the story of my narrow escape and have a movie made about me? Other mice have starred in films!”
“Don’t be silly. We have more important things to do like
feeding our children! With you in no
condition to go look for food, I’ll go see if my brother can help us out. You mind the children!” And with that Mother slide through the
opening into the blustery night.
When she returned she had good
news! “My brother says he found a
wonderful source of food in the other building, he’ll bring us some tomorrow
night. Brrr, it’s cold out there!” she
snuggled up against Father as warmth seeped back into her delicate bones.
Brother Mouse brought some food the
next night and suggested, “Go looking for some little sticks you can use to fix
up his foot. Most Two-leggeds have some lying
around.”
“Good idea!” pronounced Father. “Why don’t you two go see if you can find
some while I watch the youngsters? Just
don’t try to get any of the monster cheese!”
So off went Mother and Brother in
search of sticks the Two-leggeds call toothpicks.
A few days later, Brother didn’t show
up with food. “Oh no,” sighed
Mother. “I wonder what happened to
him. We must listen to see if we can
learn anything from the Two-leggeds.”
All day the mice listened carefully
every time they heard the Two-leggeds conversing. Laughing, one of the Two-leggeds said,
“Another piece of the Mystery of the Mice.
But this one had all its toes. I
think it might have been stealing the birds’ food to help the injured mouse.”
“Do mice have Mousey Hospitals?” asked
another voice. “Maybe the injured one is
there learning to use his artificial limb made from toothpicks! Ha, ha, ha!
Let’s check and see if any toothpicks missing?”
“How do they figure these things out,”
asked Father.
“I don’t know,” sighed Mother. “But it sounds as if Brother won’t be
bringing us anymore of those seeds.
Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to make our home here.”
Above their heads, the Cats, Comet and
Shadow were planning a party to which they texted a message to their friend
Quandary who lived far away: “Dinner Party – Informal Dress – Menu: Mouse Pate”
Quandary texted back: “Mouse Pate? Drool… I’ll be there even if I have to drag
L along!”
I am a former
librarian. All the librarians I know
would fit the mold of once a librarian, always a librarian. Librarians worth their salt are standing on
the threshold of freedom of information, barring the way when the censors show
up and allowing the “common man” entrance.
And librarians are always
sharing stories as there are so many, many stories in a library. All the fiction books are stories of one kind
and another. Biographies are stories, as
well; they’re just about real people.
When Mr. Dewey set up his system of classification, he placed the
stories in the 800’s. But the very best
place to look for stories is 398.2, this is where the folktales, fairy tales,
tall tales and all the other stories that represent our cultures reside. Now, “Why?” you may ask, “are these stories,
which are obviously not factual, placed in Customs?” Because folktales and their ilk are our
heritage.
Next time you need a new
story to tell, want to brush up on one you already know, find variants of
various kinds take a trip to the library and check out the 398.2 section in
either the juvenile or adult sections.
You just might find what you are looking for and a lot more besides!
