Silly Sunday Mini-Blog-The Mouse That Roared

I have to say that about the only mouse that I don’t have a certain affection for is Mickey. The iconic figure that first appeared on one of the earliest sound pictures, “Steamboat Willie'“, in 1928, and certainly one of the most important figures in our culture, has always seemed cloying and silly to me, even as a child. On top of that, Mickey doesn’t look, or in fact act, like any mouse that I have been around. But setting his big ears and big grin aside, for whatever reason I have always had affection for the little creatures.

This silliness comes in the context of the fact that it is now grilling season, and one of the things that means in my world is that each time I open the hood of my dandy Napoleon gas grill, I have to shoo away a cute little white mouse, or, in the most recent case, two. This phenomenon started to occur last year. Likely if I used my grill more often (we usually only take advantage of it every week or ten days) the mouse would be disturbed too often to bother. But given the irregular usage, the little rodent sneaks in an opening in the back and starts to build a little nest underneath the grilling grate. I usually can get it to skedaddle with my voice or a little poke, but if all else fails, I will pick one of the three burners that is furthest away from him at that moment, and turn it on. That immediately is successful is getting quick flight.

Mice are curious creatures, unlike rats, which are cautious, (yes, I looked this up), and they are just plain cute in that way. They always look at you like they want to find something out, or at least want some cheese. Actually, mice mostly eat plants, while rats are carnivores. Mice also stay tiny, while rats can grow to as much as forty inches. To me, mice are likable, rats are not, although many people look at them in the same way. Discrimination, I say!

If I had to guess, I would posit that my affection for the little creatures comes from my great affection for a famous children’s book. “The Cricket in Times Square”, which was published in 1960, and won the Newberry Medal in 1961 for Best Children’s Book. I read it a few years after that. I was thinking about the book recently and even mentioned it to my wife, referring to it as “The Mouse in Times Square”. Even though the main character was Chester the cricket, when he accidentally hopped on a train in Connecticut and ended up in Times Square, he was befriended by Tucker Mouse and Harry Cat, who had created a world of their own in the big city, scrounging, and avoiding disaster. For some reason, I thought the mischievous Tucker was the cool character, and perhaps my mouse-loving future was sealed.

Apparently many others agreed. The book spawned many sequels, and a prequel that featured just Tucker Mouse and Harry Cat. I may have to search that out. This will sound incredibly silly, but I really do want to get a copy of “The Cricket in Times Square” and revisit it .Damn it, we can use a little silly in our world these days, can’t we? I think I read the book when I was about seven, and I remember believing it was quite sophisticated material for someone my age. There were also tremendous illustrations, and that I know is true since I just looked at a bunch of them. The small scale world in an urban jungle seemed about the coolest there was to me.

I never had a mouse for a pet, and it’s not as if I have spent all that much time researching them. All I know is that I have never wanted to set a mouse trap, and especially never had any desire to check on one, either the steel trap variety, or the poison box one, since I don’t want to see a cute little thing that has passed on. I just want to see their peripatetic selves pop up, and frantically look around at….everything.

Times may be foreboding for my white little friend(s). (It has to be a succession of them, mice generally only live six months or so). My wife went out on the porch yesterday morning and then quietly called out to me. Relaxing on the side fence railing was a large white owl. Quite a lovely sight for us, before our nutty dog Charlie sent it flying away with a cacophony of barking. Quite an ominous sign for those that the owl clearly sees as dinner.

I never mind when the little mice delay my dinner preparations for a few minutes as I shoosh them off to safety and then clean out the little nest. The thirty seconds or so of interaction puts a smile on my face. I actually now look forward to opening the grill and repeating the process with a mouse that looks about exactly the same as the one before, or perhaps is still the same one. I HAVE stopped short of actually giving a name to my furry little acquaintance….”little buddy” will do.

These days tiny pleasures are in great demand in our world, and one of the tiniest around is all right by me.