Mister Mouse

“BAD KITTY! GET DOWN! BAD KITTY!! NO!”

Bad Kitty made a funny grunting sound and leapt off the screen to the floor.

“Get down Mouse – under the straw.” whispered Mongo. I dove down into the straw and finally dared to poke my head up a little so I could see what was happening.

Oh, there is a little big creature. It has golden fur and big blue eyes. And it is very angry with Bad Kitty.

Then the really scary thing happened. The little big creature grasped the screen top and lifted it with one hand, and reached in and grabbed Mongo with the other.

“Oh Mongo, my poor sweet rat. Did that silly kitty scare you?” It dropped the screen back in place and AHHHHH! moved Mongo toward it’s giant red mouth! But instead of biting him, it made a smacking sound and rubbed it’s big face all over his.

Mongo began to make the happy sound. It’s a little chittering thing we do when we feel warm and happy and safe. I could not believe my ears. This kind of activity should be greeted with hisses and howls, not the happy sound.

It said “I don’t know why he would do such a thing. D’Artagnan has lost his mind. He knows you’re off limits. Why, he’s never done that before!?”

The little big creature made another popping noise on Mongo’s head and lowered him back into the glass house.

“Oh My! Are you alright Mongo? Did it squish you? I thought it was going to bite you or… eat you.”

“Mr. Mouse, you have a very peculiar obsession with odd eating habits. She would never bite me or eat me. That is my girl. So, it is a she, and she has a name. She is called Bella.”

I scrambled all the way out of the straw and sat next to Mongo. “Are you hungry Mouse?” I was very hungry. All this running and dashing and being very afraid, it’s very taxing. Mongo led me to the other side of his house and there was a beautiful fancy dish with wonderful smelling food in it. Seeds, Nuts, and some little pressed blocks that smelled like the meaty nibbles I found on the floor. Hanging next to that was a bottle with sweet fresh water. On the other side of that was a small empty dish.

 ”Why is it empty”? I asked.

“Oh Mouse, that is the bowl for special food. It comes every evening.”

“Special Food?”

“Oh yes Mouse. Last night it was spaghetti.”

I struggled with this new word. “Spaghetti?”

“Oh yes, Mr. Mouse,  smashed up sweet tomatoes on top of those dried up wheat things that are next to that dried grape cereal you’ve been eating”.

“What – Yuck! those sticks are terrible. I should know. I tried to eat them once.” I said.

“Oh no no, ” said Mongo” They use a magic hotwaterpot and they make them soft, and then they cover it all with stinky cheese!”

“Oh – I love stinky cheese. Where is it?!”

“You can’t get it Mouse – it’s in the Shiver Crate”.

“Yes, the Shiver Crate. We can not go there. You shiver and then no more.”

“No more”?

“No more Mouse. No more Mongo.”

I am not sure about this shiver crate, but I am very sure about stinky cheese.

“EAT you? Ah ha ha ha ha.

Why would I eat you?”

I have been told that rats eat mouses. It is in the legend.

Mongo laughed so hard that tears ran down on to his pink nose.

“This rat does not eat a mouse. The idea is positively disgusting. In fact, the mere thought is giving me agita.  Ack. Gack. Blaek.”

“Oh Mongo? Agita?”

Mongo explained that agita is a very serious sick stomach. He learned it as a pink growing up in the pet store in Brooklyn where he was born. You may not know this but tiny baby rats and mouses are called pinks when they are first born because, well, they are hairless and pink for the first week of their lives, and they can only smell and feel. Our eyes are closed.

“Mister Mouse! Agita is a word the Italian-American Rats taught me. Oh, pet store food is horrible. It gives you a sour stomach. The thought of eating you? Why would I eat a mouse?!

I am served the feast of Kings here. Besides, eating you would require a lot of biting and screaming and kicking. Ack! And blood all over my beautiful fresh straw. I just may faint… Oh…

Take a look around you, Mr. Mouse, what do you see?”

And as I looked around the glass house, I saw the most horrible, frightening thing I had ever seen. A giant furry face with vicious fangs began rising into view. A gigantic tongue licked it’s lips, it’s horrible nose sucked in air – looking for mouse – and then it leapt straight up and onto the screen that covered the glass house, sniffing and scratching. The screen began to stretch and sink under the weight. The bad smell. This was the thing that made the bad smell.

Also known as “Bad Kitty”.

I have only seen one rat before in my whole life.  A burly dark brown rat with half a tail and a ripped ear and a very dirty face.

The other mouses (in case you’re curious, there is no word “mice” in mouse language), said she ate mouses for breakfast, lunch, dinner and even snacks.

And now here I was, sitting six inches away from a -gulp- rat. He was white with a black hood on his head. And very clean.

“What is your name?”

“My name?”

“Yes Mouse, what are you called?”

“I am called Mouse, I suppose.”

He raised up and shook his paws above his head. “MOUSE? MOUSE?”

“Yes”, I said, “We are all called Mouse”.

“OK then”.

“OK then what?”

“I shall call you Mister Mouse. Are you a boy?”

“Of COURSE I am a BOY!” Is he blind?

“I will call you Mister Mouse and you will call me Mongo.”

“What is Mongo?”

“I have no idea what Mongo is. It is the name my girl calls me.”

Ah… he has a girlfriend. I am almost old enough to have a girlfriend and soon after that, a wife.

I couldn’t stand the suspense any longer and finally had to ask him.

“Mr. Mongo?”

“Yes, Mister Mouse?”

“Are you going to eat me?”

I spent my 7th week of life in the house of Mongo. The week before I was hijacked to new house. In old house I spent the first day way up on the cereal shelf, munching and crunching on wonderful sweet and salty things. From my perch I watched the big ones, hairless creatures with no tails. Weird. Huge! They speak in a language very similar to Mouse. Not so terribly different, but very hystrionic. That is a mouse word for Way Over The Top.

There is also a large smelly thing here called “Kitty” or “Cat” or “Bad Kitty” or sometimes “Grunion”. It has hair at least. There is one other like him, but he is very sly and spooky. Trust me, I know.

The second night in the house after yet another wonderful meal of dried grape cereal, I ventured out. What a magical place. There is a clear tall lake with fish and the sun stays on it even in the night. AND meaty nibble things in a big dish on the floor. Oh, they are delicious. I stuffed myself with the meaty nibbles. I felt I could hardly walk.

And then I smelled a bad thing. It was an awful thing. And then I heard it breathing.

A voice began to yell “Run Mouse! Run to my voice” Run! Hurry! This way!” I ran and as I did I felt something sharp brush the tip of my tail. “This way Mouse! Up here. Jump and get in.”

I jumped as high as I could and then squeezed through a rip in a screen and fell straight down into a bed of straw.

And came face to face with a very large rat.

I wish I were a stronger mouse. It took a million hours to push the cupboard door open.

This is certainly not the same house. But the water is delicious. It was good to find the sink. Well, actually the sink found me. I fell in.

I’m sitting in the window above it. There is water outside, lots of it. Falling from the sky.

I have found a perfect hiding place. I wish i didn’t have to hide, but for some reason the big creatures squeal in pain when they see me. As you can see, I am a very formidible mouse. But with power must come conscience, after all.

A small planter with a plant with large leaves on the mantel in the living room is a very good place to watch and learn.

There is a familiar sound coming from somewhere close. Squeak, flop, squeak, flop. Mongo?