“Hooray Mick!” a lone voice squeaked from the rear and the
rest of the crowd then erupted in applause.
Their fearless leader had called them together with the
promise of exciting news. Hope
filled the small corner of the crawl space where they had gathered as he
motioned his paws for quiet and attention. Soon they had all complied and a hush of anticipation fell
over the nest.
“My fellow mice,” Michael began. “Today I bring you news. News that our enduring struggle of the past several months
may finally be at an end.”
The crowd buzzed.
“But to appreciate the blessing bestowed upon us, we must
remember from whence we came,” he continued and a respectful silence descended
on the crowd once again.
“You all know that my grandfather, the adventurous Mortimer,
first happened upon this garage in the midst of a cold winter nearly four
generations ago. It had been
thought to be a temporary shelter.
His wife, Josephine, she with a singing voice that has never been
rivaled, was pregnant with a new litter and they could travel no further.”
Michael noted the awe and reverence in the dark eyes of his
mice as they hung on each word.
“But fate had other plans, did it not my friends?” he asked
and sipped from his thimbleful of water during the resulting huzzahs.
“For as my grandparents lined their nest and prepared to
welcome their new pups, another couple scurried into the same garage from the
cold. At first, they
apologized. They vowed to stay
only a night and move on to find their own nest come sunrise. But Mortimer and Josephine would hear
no such protests. ‘Stay as long as
you need, brother and sister,’ they told their fellow mice. And so it was that they became the best
of friends with Stuart and Mitzi.
“As time went on, the garage we stand here in now became
more of a home than a temporary shelter.
My father, Bernard was among the litter born to Mortimer and
Josephine. A large group of
thirteen offspring was born to Stuart and Mitzi, many of whom perished within
the first night. One of the
survivors was the beautiful Bianca, my mother.
“Over the span of months and months, the mice of this garage
welcomed others to their home.
Lone mice left wandering the fields, having lost their way. Pups orphaned by the vicious cats of
this alley. Families whose nests had
burned or had been absconded by squirrels. It pained my grandparents and their now good friends to see
any mouse left out in the cruel world.
Our nest had been established.”
Paws clapped together and Michael nodded in approval.
“It was a golden age in our history. A golden age indeed,” Michael spoke
again before the cheers and applause had yet subsided. “However, it was not to last.” He sipped his thimble again and allowed
the solemnity of the next chapter in history to sink in among his brethren.
“By the time I was born to Bernard and Bianca some two years
after my grandparents had founded this nest, hard times had fallen. We lost many good mice those coming
months. When the human homeowners
paved the backyard, grass seed became scarce. During the weekly trips to the nearby golf course I watched
my very own brothers, Gus and Basil, plucked from the ground and carried aloft
by a cast of falcons never to be seen again.”
Michael paused as his throat closed momentarily on his
words. Tears welled in his small,
dark eyes. Some in the nest of
mice before him began to weep on his behalf. He cleared his throat, drew strength from their empathy and
continued.
“I see their faces every day as I struggle to find our path
in this harsh world,” he added quietly.
Then, firm and loud, he proclaimed, “They were brave mice and more than
I see their faces in my dreams, I see them in the faces of each and every one
of you!”
A triumphant roar answered him. Tears streamed down the furry faces of the nest as they shouted
praise. “Right on, Mick,” and,
“We’re behind you,” or, “Mick-y, Mick-y, Mick-y,” some yelled.
“We have withstood the test of time together. I have fought beside many a good
mouse. Jerome,” Michael called and
thrust a paw in the direction of the third row. “You fought with me for weeks against the Anderson’s cat in
a war that left us both scarred.”
Michael took hold of his own right ear to show the crowd the large
v-shaped chunk missing from it while Jerome stood upon his hind legs and used
one paw to lift the eye patch from his left eye, exposing the crusted socket
that remained. His other paw was
raised proudly in the air as the nest once again swelled to a feverish
applause.
“Harry, that cursed feline, may have taken your eye, Jerome,
and part of my ear, but we persevered.
We outlasted. When the
Andersons had him declawed, he was no longer any match for us and we banished
him to his own backyard for good.”
“You know it, Mick,” Jerome called to the podium. Michael saluted him in return.
“That is what we in this nest do. We persevere.
We grow. We adapt. While many mice have come and gone,
some lost to the harsh conditions outside these walls, some to foes and some
choosing to move on and begin their own nests elsewhere, we have remained. I have chosen to stay here by your
sides through thick and thin, hoping to guide you to a better time. That is why I have called you all here
today, my friends. To usher in
better times.”
The nest murmured.
In the rousing oration from their leader, they had forgotten the reason
for their assembly. Now they
wondered what the news was. The
time had finally arrived to hear of it.
“Our greatest scholars, Benjy and Frankie, have worked
tirelessly to discover new tunnels and pathways by which we might navigate
uncharted regions safely. They
have searched for the answers to all our most important questions, to the
meaning of everything. It would
seem they have discovered a source of food that can feed us all for generations
to come. And it was hidden right
here inside the very walls of this vast garage.”
Shock and surprise was apparent on the faces of those
looking up at Michael from the crowd.
The news was too good to be true.
The recent rumors of a new cat’s arrival between their nest and the golf
course would be no cause for concern if what their leader was saying were
true. Many of them had seen such
hard times, so many litter members lost to savage animals outside the garage
that they were afraid to believe in any such salvation.
“I assure you it is true,” Michael said to quell the
disbelief. “Benjy and Frankie have
partaken of the bounty already as have I.”
The nest collectively gasped.
“There is enough being carried up to this crawlspace from
the regions where it was discovered to feed you all even now as I speak to you. Go forth and feed your families. A new
golden age has arrived.”
The doors to the great dining hall were thrown open and the
adoring mice swarmed towards it.
Michael watched them all go, full of pride. As he descended from the podium, passers by patted him on
the back, shook his paw and even embraced him.
Soon, the entire nest sat together, dining on bits of the new
food source. Its bright, grass
green color made Michael imagine all the wonderful things that were to come to
his nest as he watched its members fill their bellies. His own grandchildren sat at a nearby
table, including the eldest, Fievel and Maisy and smiled at him.
He smiled back and felt a paw come to rest upon his
shoulder. He turned to find
Frankie, a panicked expression on his face, grasping at his belly with the
other paw.
“Sir,” Frankie gasped between shallow breaths, “something is
terribly wrong.”
As Michael turned, he saw Benjy on the ground behind
Frankie, a white substance slowly foaming from his mouth. Just then Michael began to feel a
burning in his own stomach.
Frankie’s paw slipped from his shoulder and as he fell to the ground he
began gurgling out the same white foam.
Michael gripped his own belly. It twisted and seared inside of him. In horror, he turned to watch as his
entire nest continued to devour the new food source.
“Walt, help me,” he whispered and then fell to the wooden
beam he stood upon. “What have I
done?”
Meanwhile, in the home that sat fifty feet south of the
garage where the mice dined, a conversation took place.
“What were you doing out there for so long?” Ginger asked
her husband.
“Ugh! You
wouldn’t believe how many mouse turds I found out in the side storage room,” he
answered. “I hadn’t been in there
in years so God knows if there’s even still a nest somewhere, but I put down
some poison pellets anyway. Just
in case.”
“Do we need to hire an exterminator?”
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