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A Mouse Tale

Title illustration from The Tale of Two Bad Mice

Title illustration from The Tale of Two Bad Mice (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Daily Prompt: Daring Do.

Tell us about the time you rescued someone else (person or animal) from a dangerous situation. What happened? How did you prevail? Photographers, artists, poets: show us BOLD

A Mouse Tale

I’ve never saved a human life, but I’ve saved umpteen cats, one rabbit, a pigeon and, my most daring animal rescue ever, two mice. It was daring of me to think I could secretly transport two mice in a small cardboard box in my pocket,  from Missouri to Oregon, on a Greyhound bus. I was fourteen years old.

I’d rescued the mice from Grandma’s chickens who’d uncovered their nest and were gobbling up the naked little babies like candy. A city girl, I was shocked to learn that chickens would eat mice! I shooed the vicious birds away and grabbed two little survivors, all pink and bald and blind to the perils of the cruel world.

Grandma humored me and found a little box I could keep them in. I made them a cozy nest and fed them milk with a little straw. They grew fast. Their grey fur had come in and their eyes were open by the end of my stay at Grandma’s house.

Great-grandma accompanied me on the three day bus ride home. She didn’t know I had mice in my pocket. The trip was going well, until the second day when I heard a kerfuffle in the back of the bus. A lady screamed, “A mouse was crawling up my leg!”  I checked my pocket. There was a hole in the box and only one mouse inside. What was I to do? I kept my mouth shut.

The bus rolled on through the night. I sat in the very front seat, wide awake while Great-grandma snoozed in the seat behind me.  The bus driver saw the mouse first.  It was on the steps by the bus door, in plain sight.   Without a thought for my own safety (or getting kicked off the bus) I hopped down the steps and scooped up the runaway mouse. The bus driver glared at me. You’d better keep that thing to yourself, he grumbled.

I did. I got those mice all the way home without Great-grandma finding out.

But then I had to face my dad. He didn’t appreciate my daring mouse rescue. He was not impressed with my dedication or the heroism of my actions.

He let the mice go, in the field behind our house where, I believe, they lived happily ever after.