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Mice 1
As a very young boy I was going to make a fortune selling white mice. I mean, it was so easy, they multiplied like traffic cones on the M6. Not that there was an M6 in those days.
My favourite mouse was a champagne and tan coloured female, she was a beautiful animal and so friendly. My older sister had a cat that she said was interested in the mouse but wouldn't hurt him. Wouldn't it be nice if they could be friends. I was persuaded that a meeting was a good thing. Big mistake.
The cat and the mouse sat looking at each other, neither moving. Now I can look back and know that the mouse had been petrified and the cat was contemplating it's next live meal but at the time I though all was well. Bored with the silent confrontation I gave the mouse a poke with my finger and as it moved so the cat reacted, as any cat would have done and the mouse was dead. My first contact with death in the raw as it were.
To return to my commercial aspirations with the white mice. At the time of the above narration I had more than fifty of these small creatures, ranging from a few days old to several weeks and was thinking about 'For Sale' signs, having already canvassed my friends at school, when fate took a hand and the whole thing collapsed around my ears.
Our area was subjected to a vicious cold spell that went on for more than a week. Despite tearful pleas to bring the assorted range of boxes and cages into the house I was obliged to try and keep them warm outside. Needless to say, despite layers of newspapers and old blankets, there came the morning when all was still in every box and cage. This was death on a massive scale and I felt all too responsible for what had happened. It took quite a while for me to get over that. So much for white mice. (See Mice 2)
Unfortunately that wasn't the end of this particular story because my sister's cat came back into the picture.
Needless to say that cat wasn't my favourite animal and I had let it know, in various ways that I won't go into here, that it wasn't flavour of the month with me. At that time I knew absolutely nothing about cats or I would have been much more circumspect in my dealings with it. Anyway, the morning after the mice had been frozen to death and also after a particularly successful sally against the cat, who I felt sure had been laughing at my tears, I woke up to the most fearful smell in my bedroom. Leaping out of bed I looked all round the floor and underneath the bed while at the same time shouting for my parents. Big sister was the first to arrive and took one look at me before running off holding her nose and giggling. My mother then turned up and also took a look before grabbing me by the arm and marching me off to the bathroom where I was plonked in front of the mirror.
Horror of horrors. From under my chin to the top of my breastbone I was plastered in cat mess. I shudder even today at the way I felt then. Strange it is that I remember that event so clearly but not what happened to the cat. Nothing drastic I imagine, probably a telling off while it ignored everything that was said, you know, the way cats do.
For further episodes about the cats in my life click here.
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