Eek! Why does everyone call me Eek? Don’t they know that I have a real name? It is not some exclamation. It is Martin Mortenson Mouse. Now I know that might not be very pretty but it is a name of substance, not some shrill syllable like EEK….
Why do I upset so many people? It was rats that carried the plague and they are much nastier than I am. Cute, furry, I have been known to be even cuddly at times. then there is their C-A-T. No, I will not say it out loud as it might summon that terrible beast. Yet they pet and coo over that horrid thing with his 10 sharpened weapons which try to do diabolical damage to me and my family.
Perhaps they should be afraid of him? He sends out his purring signal and within seconds can be using those sharp talons to wound them. Why can’t they see who the treacherous one in the house really is? Surely it cannot be me – I really don’t eat THAT much. And what comes out the other end is so small I don’t even need one of those terrible boxes filled with “sand” and phew, the smell, whew.
Harrumph. I wonder how we mice have gotten such a bad rap for such a long time?
Mama mouse never knew the answer to this either. We don’t enjoy instilling fear into the hearts of women everywhere. I could see it if we were poisonous like a crawly thing, snake is what they call them or an arachnoids type spider but sweet, furry and with pretty blinking eyes? Such misunderstanding and abuse – there has to be an answer.
“Hey. Mom, Jenny’s white mouse had some babies, can I have one for a pet?”
Not likely to be a question in this household in my lifetime…. Oh, I could dream about this, being cuddled and pampered with my favorite mouse snacks from the mouse deli…..
“Sam, get that peanut butter and the mouse trap! I think I just saw another one scurrying under the piano – quick…”
Well, at least they got the peanut butter part right but I know what happens if I want even the tiniest little taste – “WHAP!” Oh, no, here comes the Samari C-A-T, sniffing and prowling around my little door yet again. If anyone should have a persecution complex it should be me, Mortimer Mouse in this terrible, twisted house. They really do not understand!