Dec 5, 2012

Honoring the Mouse

by Timmy da Timid

In my mouth
that's where he belongs,
or dancing on my paws, tight in claws,
or flipped in the air, tossed so high.
I smack him across the room,
my best friend, Mousie.

Caught in a corner somewhere,
we play hide and seek.
"I found you! I found you!" I mew
when I hear him squeak.
Oh, my mousie, my favorite thing!

I drop him into my water bowl
he might be thirsty, you know.
or maybe he'd like to swim
I sniff my mousie and lick him,
and take a nibble or two.
but I won’t chew.
I'd have no one to play with,
I would miss him.
Wouldn't you?

I like to carry him tightly in my teeth
and hide him beneath the curtains,
under the rocking chair,
or by the front door.
So, when people come in
they squeal in surprise.
I think they like mousie as much as me.

But, I don't want to share.
I take him behind the sofa
where he can sleep,
way in the back to safely keep,
so the others won't find him,
and they never do.

Mousie has hard little eyes
a missing tail,
scrunched up fur
all sticky from play.
He has no more whiskers.
I don't know where his ears went.
They just disappeared one day.
Really, and truly.
I didn't eat them. I swear!
They must be hiding
somewhere over there.

In the middle of night,
with the moon shining bright,
we are alone, Mousie and me.
Running back and forth we play joyously.
Leaping and scrabbling across the floor
we tear up rugs, throw pillows with glee.
Then, slide into the kitchen,
where he hides from me
under the fridge just out of reach.
I stretch, and poke until my friend
is in my clutches again.

All tired out, I carry Mousie
to my bed, roll on top of him
to hide and protect him
to get myself comfy
and purr him to sleep.
I dream of him and me playing.
Oh, how I love my Mousie!

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