no, no, this has nothing to do with the Nobel prize winning novella by Steinbeck set in the period of the Great Depression in California. crisis might be a common feature, but the migrant ranch workers in that writing are not characters in my story.
this is a very short story of the influence of mice over men (and women, naturally).
mice, as you know are meek creatures. most of the information i have about them comes from stories and from tom and jerry cartoons. although i've been around for a considerable number of years, it was not until very recently that i actually saw a living mouse, in the flesh. and that, too, was half dead !
my encounter with the mice was brought about by the fact that my cat and dog both hunt them. i had been told by my neighbour that my cat left some mice on her porch and was wondering when i would get the honour to have whisky display some of his catches on my porch, too. he dragged one about one day, but i didn't even see it very well, as whisky was all over it and took it to the back of my garden.
well, this morning i woke up to a beautiful sunny day. out of my window i saw only tender rays of light, which led me to believe this saturday would be a splendid one.so down the stairs i went and after the usual morning stuff, which included putting the kettle on for tea, this time, instead of the regular coffee, i opened my front door with a relaxed smile. it quickly turned into a grin, mind you, as i nearly stepped into a puddle of blood, right there on my doorstep. a small beheaded creature, whose long tale, color and size suggested it might have been a mouse lay there, while the cat and dog kept leaping around, happy to see me. ok, i said to myself, no breakfast today, let's clean up the mess. so i grabbed the broom and just when i turned to deal with the headless creature, there was another dead mouse in front of me. rrrrrrrrrrright. this one was intact. dead, of course. in that instant, the cat grabbed it and leaped inside, headed straight for the kitchen, where he started throwing it about as if it was a nice toy. and clean too. (sorry, human terminology) there i was, broom in hand, puddle of mouse blood at my feet, begging my cat to come out with the corpse. but he was having a blast with the mouse in the house ! finally, i convinced him to get out of the house, mouse in fangs, of course and started cleaning the place. i finished this, then cleaned the blood from the doorstep and felt relieved. when all of a sudden, the cat appeared again playing football with a small, greyish, bloody head. just in time to mess up the cleanliness just reinstated... no more lunch, either ...
towards dusk, the images had left me and felt like eating apple pancakes. goody. i made them and when they were steaming on the kitchen table, i threw something into the dustbin realizing it had to be taken out. as you can imagine, it was pretty dark, so i took a candle and went out of the house to throw out the garbage. stepping down from the porch, i stumbled across the dog, who was chewing on something that must have been yummy to her, because she made no sound when i stepped on her tail. curiosity kills, but still, i had to see what she was feasting on. so, i took a closer look with the help of the candle only to discover a huge, juicy rat, whose blood was dripping from the dog's muzzle... so much for the pancakes... if you're hungry, i'll e-mail them to you, let me know ...