Pepper Lambie Bauer -– Conversation with a Deer Mouse
The clock ticked loudly on the kitchen wall as I rubbed my burning eyes. "Ugh, it's really late," I muttered to myself, "I need to get to bed." The words across the open laptop sitting on the kitchen table swam in my blurry vision. Sitting here any longer was pointless; my progress was so slow it had stopped.
I stood up stiffly and stretched. Maybe movement would bring my brain back to life. At this point, coffee’s stimulating powers weren’t working anymore; I just had to visit the bathroom more often. "At least running back and forth to the 'john' doesn't let me doze off," I thought as I swung my arms in big circles to get the circulation going.
My attention focused on the half-finished story on the glowing computer screen mocking me. It was due tomorrow. I groaned. My muse had deserted me.
Suddenly, I heard something rattling on the stove. Slowly I turned, then stood very still, and watched. In no time, a little, furry, pink nose poked around the burner and twitched as it sniffed the air, delicate whiskers vibrating. Next, shiny black eyes appeared, and then oversized ears. It was a deer mouse.
The mouse spotted me staring at it and froze. Our eyes locked, and it felt like we stared at one another forever, but really was only a few seconds. Then, it surprised me. I thought the little rodent would scurry off, but instead it came all the way out of hiding, sat daintily down on its haunches, and deliberately wrapped its hairless tail around teensy light gray feet.
The deer mouse cleared its throat with a soft squeak. "Yo."
Mouth hanging wide open, I stared at the mouse in disbelief. I must be hallucinating from sleep deprivation. That critter didn't really speak.
"Yo," the creature repeated, this time a little louder. "What's the matter, cat got your tongue?" Laughing hysterically at its own joke, the mouse’s sleek gray-brown sides shook as raspy squeals emanated from its muzzle, then it raised a diminutive paw up to wipe away a microscopic tear. "Sorry," it said hiccupping. "I couldn't resist."
"By the way," the mouse continued, "Speaking of cats, could you do something about your friend there?" It pointed to the floor where my cat Yoda crouched, butt wiggling and tail snapping back and forth like a manic bullwhip.
I scooped up the cat, carried her hissing and shaking into another room, and closed her in, where she promptly began yowling and beating on the door. She was not a happy camper.
I returned to the kitchen, where the deer mouse waited patiently for me on the stove. "Thanks," it said. I squatted down to its level to peer at it more closely. "Is there anything else I can do for you?" I asked hesitantly, still not sure this wasn’t a dream. "Well, a cracker would be nice," it answered, muzzle quivering. "Ritz, if you have them. They're my favorite."
I reached into the cabinet, pulled out a Tupperware container containing Ritz crackers, and took one out. As I handed the cracker to the deer mouse, I noticed how petite its fingers were as it held the Ritz firmly in its paws. Small teeth clicked as it nibbled on the treat.
I popped the lid back on the container and continued the conversation. "Do you have a name? And I don’t mean to be rude, but are you a girl or a boy?" I asked. It cocked its head and looked at me, cracker crumbs clinging to its whiskers. "Meeska, and I’m a male." he mumbled with a full mouth.
I sat back down at the table and watched while Meeska finished his treat and groomed his fuzzy face. He licked his paws, and then wiped them over his face, smoothing his whiskers, until all remnants of the cracker disappeared. "That was great," he said with a satisfied sigh.
We stared at each other in silence for a few seconds. Finally, Meeska spoke. "Can I ask you something personal?" "O.K.," I said skeptically.
Meeska gazed intently into my face. "When you catch mice in that big box of yours, do you kill us? I need to know because some of my friends and family have disappeared that way."
I looked over at the "Tin Cat" on the floor next to the floorboard and smiled. "No, I didn't kill your friends. I take them out into a field and let them go." Meeska looked at me quizzically. "Why?" He asked.
I stood up and walked over to the stove. Leaning over to talk to Meeska better, I continued. "Because mice are supposed to live outside. It's not good for them or humans if they inhabit houses."
Meeska looked up at me. "But I was born here, in your Christmas bow box, and raised in the walls and basement of this house. I've never been outside. Some of the elders talk about fields and seeds, but to the younger mice, those are just bedtime stories. Why don't you want us in here with you?"
I had to think; how could I put this politely? Maybe I should just be honest. "Because you chew up things you shouldn't, such as wires, and our belongings, for your nests. You're very destructive, whether you mean to be or not. Also, I'm not sure how to say this, but you go to the bathroom wherever you feel like it. It's disgusting and dirty."
Meeska looked thoughtful.
"I hope I didn't hurt your feelings," I said, "but you asked."
"That's O.K.," he answered. "It's food for thought. We didn't realize those things bother you."
Meeska sat still a minute, and then his face brightened. "Onto a different subject. What are you doing?" He asked. "Usually, I have the run of the kitchen this time of night; well, when the cat isn’t around anyway. You never stay up this late."
I sighed and looked over at my laptop and scrap papers filled with notes scattered around the table. "I'm way behind on an article I have due, and my brain is fried. I just can't think anymore. I'm sunk."
Meeska stood up on his hind legs. "Take me over to the table," he said. "Maybe I can help."
I laughed. "You, help? You're just a mouse. You can't even read. How are you going to help me write and edit an article?"
Meeska glared at me. "What makes you so certain I can't read? He growled. Have you ever heard the old adage about never assuming? If you assume, you know what it makes out of you and me."
I frowned. "Nobody likes a smart-aleck, even if it’s a mouse. But I get your point. Hop on my hand and I'll take you over to the table."
Meeska's toenails pricked my skin and tickled as he settled down in my palm. He felt warm, his furry sides moving in a slow rhythm as he breathed. I carried him over to the table, and he clung to one of my fingers like a gymnast before dropping off onto my notes.
Hunching over my notes, then standing up on his hind legs to examine the Word document on the laptop, he seemed to read rather quickly. "You wrote this sentence in the passive tense," he announced, placing his paw on the screen, "makes it hard to understand." I looked over his shoulder. Darn, he was right.
Meeska continued. "Are you sure you want to use this phrase," he pointed to the next sentence. "It's a cliche."
The next hour went rather quickly. Meeska was all over the place, correcting, and suggesting, his tiny face intense in its concentration. When I didn’t respond fast enough, he jumped up and down on the keys to write the sentences himself. In no time, we were almost done. It became harder and harder to keep my eyes open.
I lay my head down on the table. I could see a blurry Meeska through my half-closed eyes scurrying around just inches from my face, but I was too exhausted to stay awake. He said something to me about finishing; I think he said goodnight. Then, I plummeted down the shaft into dreamland.
The next thing I knew, there were warm hands on my shoulder, shaking me awake. I looked up to see my husband’s concerned face peering down at me. "Did you stay up all night? He asked. I felt Yoda rubbing on my leg.
I sat up and stretched. My neck felt stiff, and my head ached. I felt as if I moved too quickly, my vertebrae would break, so I moved very slowly.
Groggy, I looked down at my darkened laptop screen and brushed my hand over the touchpad. The LCD display lit up and my article appeared. It looked complete. I shook my head to clear it. "I had the weirdest dream," I said to my husband as he started the coffee, and I saved the document. "I dreamed a deer mouse came out and talked to me and helped me finish my story."
He laughed. "Maybe that's why I found Yoda locked in the other room." He noticed the look on my face. "I'm just joking; you were dreaming," he comforted. "Next time, start your writing sooner, so you don't have to stay up until all hours."
"I know; you're right. I need to stop procrastinating." I moaned and started to lower my head.
Suddenly, I noticed a little brown piece of dirt or something on top of my notepad; right where I was about to lay my head. A stubby pencil lay to one side. I stopped and examined it closer. "What is that?"
Suddenly, the light dawned. Ew, it's a mouse dropping, with words scribbled next to it on the paper. I squinted at the wobbly, fine print, and could just barely make it out. When I did, I had to chuckle. Crude little letters formed the message: OOPS, SORRY! DSS
Pepper L. Bauer of Mapleton, IL., is a columnist, feature writer and reporter for the Limestone Independent News, directs a food pantry and has received many awards for her volunteer work. This is her 19th story in issues of DSS. She also sings in choirs, and watches birds, bikes, cooks, gardens and plays the banjo in polka bands. Her backyard is a Certified Backyard Wildlife Habitat by the National Wildlife Federation.