A Mouse's Tale

Recently I posted about the trials and tribulations of removing a mouse from my home.
https://steemit.com/funny/@lenadr/ninja-mice-the-thrilling-conclusion

If you recall, I discussed two scenarios regarding animal thoughts. The first is strictly logical: it’s pretty much all unchecked instinct, no thought processes to speak of. Just a mouse being a mouse.

The second scenario is "a Dr. Doolittle cartoon-type existence where animals have the same consciousness as humans." This is the one my brain naturally tends toward; basically anthropomorphism taken to ludicrous distances.

This is one mouse's story.

Chapter 1: New Beginnings

So here’s the situation. There’s a field mouse wandering… well, the fields… during a brutal Texas summer, and he comes across a huge structure lifted way up off the ground. Underneath the structure is an enchanting space with lots of darkness, dank moisture, cool dirt, and a fabulous escape from the sun.

At first go-around it appears to be unoccupied except for some wasps, although there is evidence of a past resident – maybe a snake. He shudders at the thought of a snake lurking around because, you know, snakes are gross and really scary.

As he prepares to hightail it out of there, a smell hits. Food. And it’s coming from up above – inside the structure itself. In a few moments he’s scurried up some pipes and finds himself in the laundry room. The house is full of amazing smells and over the next few days he orients himself to his new territory.

The two dogs are free-feeders, so at night he sneaks as many pellets as he can hold and stashes them away in different hiding spots so that just in case one of them is raided, he has a safety net to hold him over.

He also finds a constant source of fresh water, conveniently right next to the food.

The dogs never confront him and actually don’t even seem to notice his presence at all. And the human is more of a joke than a danger, all giant and plodding and really freaking stupid.

Chapter 2: Predators

Life is good. For a while he’s living the little mousey dream.

And then two new beasts appear. Cats. Ugh. He’s run across plenty of those outside and he knows that cats suck. But then again, these are babies.

So for the next few months he is extremely careful about where and when he moves. He makes sure it’s always the dead of night when even the cats are asleep, and when he does go, he goes. No more lingering around the watering hole. Get the food, poop along the way (of course), and get out.

At first the kittens are intrigued. They know he’s there but can’t get into his hiding spots and can’t jump up to the places he can climb. They’re desperately frustrated, but he discovers it’s quite fun to tease a cat when you’re far enough away.

Eventually the cats get used to the smell of him and his poop and end up seeming to grudgingly accept him as a background annoyance. As the months go on, he takes advantage of his stealth and their complacency to learn their sleep habits. Terrible predators. They sleep for most of the night (since when do cats sleep at night?) in rooms far enough away from the kitchen that his movements never wake them up.

He now roams the house at night, stealing and stashing food (the human picks up the dog food every night now, but he still finds ways of nabbing other things) right under the sleeping noses of two dogs, two cats, and one human (who has the ears of a rock and the nose of a leaf so that’s not really much of an accomplishment).

The only trace he leaves behind is his poop. If only he could control his bodily functions!

Stay tuned for the next installment of A Mouse's Tale!