Sweetly Delicious

You might be surprised to find out that what Sourise and Raton enjoyed the most at grandma’s house was the moment when, after supper, her big green eyes would turn to the clock on the fireplace mantle before she announced that was it time to go to bed.

Yes, that’s right, they couldn’t wait for bedtime and sometimes they both stared at the clock to try to make the hands move faster. They couldn’t wait to waive good-bye to their parents, and dash to the bathroom to brush their tiny mice teeth, wash their whiskers and pink pointy noses, and jump in bed. And during the weekend at grandma, they stayed busy playing, and arguing, and playing again, to make sure bedtime came faster.

Sourise was so small she slept in a matchbox with her tail sticking out. Raton was so big he slept in a lunchbox with his tail, his whiskers, and a paw sticking out. Grandma Meowmouse slept in a big hatbox, though she was only slightly bigger than Raton. And being almost the same size as Raton, made her really small for a cat.

Yes, you heard right, grandma Meowmouse was a cat. You may think it’s mighty dangerous for young mice to spend every weekend with a cat grandma. Don’t worry, grandma Meowmouse was the best cat young mice could have ever wished for. She was on a strict diet and she didn’t like mice anyway; too sweet for her taste.

Sourise and Raton didn’t think it was dangerous to have a cat in the family, but they knew it was unusual. It was certainly very unusual considering that grandma had once been a mouse, just like them. So every weekend night before Sourise fell asleep in her matchbox and Raton started snoring in his lunchbox, they couldn’t wait for grandma Meowmouse to tell the story of how she once was a regular mouse who became a tiny cat… who didn’t eat mice.

“Before you were born, when your mother had moved from this house to live with your dad,” Meowmouse would begin, “I decided to learn more about cats. I went to the house library, got books on cats, read them all, and made quite a few interesting discoveries.”

Sourise and Raton would listen attentively.

“The first thing I discovered was not much of a surprise. Throughout my mouse

life we never had cats in this house. I never saw, smelled or heard one, but I knew one important thing about them. My own grandma who lived all her life in a house with five cats once told me that cats like mice.”

“They do? I thought they didn’t like us,” asked Sourise, puzzled.

“Yes, they do. Cats like mice… especially for dinner. And cats can’t help it if they like mice. To them, mice are bite-size, and sweetly delicious.”

“Bite-size and sweetly delicious!” repeated Sourise and Raton in unisson.

“I understood how cats felt because as a mouse I felt the same way about cheese,” continued Meowmouse, “Little chunks of cheese are so appetizing. It is easy to think of them as—”

“Sweetly delicious,” finished Sourise and Raton.

“Yes, indeed,” responded grandma. “After this first discovery, I concluded that cats were not so different than mice. How unfortunate that they found us sweetly delicious and had no particular interest in bite-size chunks of cheese!”

“My next discovery was a real surprise,” she continued stopping a moment to lick her left paw. “Cats have longer lives than mice and they have more of them. Do you know how many lives cats have?”

“They have more than one?” asked Raton perplexed.

“Yes, they do. They have nine whole lives, a very long time. It’s about as long as a human life, half the life of a sea turtle, and fifty mice lives. I already knew why mice didn’t live long. Cats find them—”

“So sweetly delicious,” said Sourise and Raton in one voice.

“Yes, indeed. And they find them especially delicious for dinner,” Meowmouse said, “But with this discovery I realized that mice didn’t stand a chance. Cats could chase us year after year, which we knew they already did, and they could also tail us life after life.”

Sourise and Raton had heard this story a thousand times over, but they still couldn’t believe that cats would hunt them nine whole lives. That was a lot of chasing.

“Then I discovered why cats got to live so long. They live the best kind of life. Nothing to compare with the life of mice, who are busy looking for their next meal when they’re not trying to hide danger. First, they get a steady diet of mice that keeps them in good health way past dinnertime. Next, humans love cats a great deal and they let them do whatever they want around the house.”

“Cats do whatever they want around the house?” said Sourise and Raton surprised.

“Yes, they do. Cats climb curtains, scratch furniture, and eat plants every waken moment of the day. And they play hide and seek all night long. And what do they do after they have so much fun? They nap hours at a time. Cats live many lives because they are loved in a house where they have fun all day, all night, and all over.”

“After I made these incredible discoveries,” continued grandma, “I wondered why I should spend so few days, such a short life, as an old tiny mouse. Living the life of a cat was a lot easier, and frankly a lot less dangerous and a lot less tiresome. I thought that if I were a cat I could spend at least eight more lives having a lot more fun around the house.”

“So what did you do, grandma?” asked Sourise.

“I decided that I would find a way to become a cat with eight more lives ahead of her,” answered grandma.

“And how did you become a cat?” asked Raton.

“How did I become a cat? That’s a long story. It might be too late for that, it’s almost time for me to turn off the light. You had a busy day, aren’t you tired?” Meowmouse always said with a smile hiding underneath her long whiskers.

“Tell us grandma, tell us how you became a small, cute, and sweetly delicious cat,” Sourise and Raton would always beg heartily.

“It was pretty easy after all,” Meowmouse would start, after a hesitation that lasted an eternity. “I decided I should adopt the life style of a cat. That didn’t look hard at all, so first thing the next day I started to act like a cat.”

“Act like a cat?” Sourise and Raton would ask wondering how she could do that.

“Yes, I went back to my grandma’s old house, where there were still five happy cats, the same old cats, probably on their second lives. I observed them and played when they played, took naps at the same time they took a nap, and ran around the house as if chased by a dog all night long.”

“Were you not afraid that those cats would find you cute, small, sweetly delicious, and try to eat you?” worried Raton.

“Not really. I was more preoccupied with the house mice, who thought I was an old tired tiny mouse and many other things I could never repeat in front of children,” replied Grandma.

“Is that when you ate them?” asked Raton.

“That’s not the part yet. First she needed to climb curtains and all. Didn’t you grandma?” Sourise asked.

“Yes, it wasn’t really hard to learn how to have fun around the house day and night,” continued grandma. “I climbed curtains, scratched furniture, and even tried to eat plants, which I must tell you, will never taste as sweetly delicious as a chunk of cheese.” “Sweetly delicious,” Raton repeated licking his chops. “I also took naps when I didn’t play, and played hide and seek with my cat friends all night, when I didn’t nap. And that’s how eventually humans noticed me. Can you guess what they thought of me?”

“You were an old tired tiny mouse and many other things you could never repeat to children,” said Raton.

“No, that’s what the house mice thought, didn’t they?”Said Sourise.

“Absolutely, humans thought I was absolutely cute and sweetly delicious, just like their five cats,” grandma resumed. “They were fond of me as if I were a cat myself. When they saw me, they didn’t scream or chase after me with a broom like they did the house mice. They petted me, treated me like a cat, and let me have all the fun in the house.”

“Did you feel you were starting to turn into a cat?”Raton asked.

“Not quite. Not quite. For a little while longer I climbed greater length of curtains, scratched more furniture, and ate more plants than I’d care to. I took naps that lasted entire days, yawned and stretched every fifteen minutes or so, and I played hide and seek from dawn to dusk. I even started to purr, meow, and arch my back when I came anywhere near the foot of a chair, a table, or a human. Eventually, I started to think like a cat.”

“How is it to think like a cat?”asked Sourise.

“It’s not much different than thinking like a mouse, except that you have to remind yourself to enjoy your life every moment of the day, every second of the night. Now, dinner time for a cat is very different than for a mouse—and I’m not talking about the steady diet of house plants.”

“What do you mean?”asked Sourise and Raton.

“Being a mouse, I always thought that mice were cute, small and sweetly delicious,” started Meowmouse. “Turning into a cat, I continued to think mice were cute, small, and sweetly delicious, but that tasty thought only occurred to me when it was around dinner time.”

“Around dinner time?” exclaimed Sourise and Raton, terrified.

“Around dinner, and breakfast, and lunch time also. And sometimes when I felt like having a snack.”

“But you didn’t eat mice to become a cat, did you?” asked Sourise and Raton.

“Well, I don’t remember if I did, I don’t think I did, I’m not certain I did,” Meowmouse would always conclude shaking her cute cat head, with pointy ears, and long whiskers.

“I don’t believe I did, but I always thought it was odd that the house mice who kept calling me an old tired tiny mouse and many other things I could never repeat in front of children, vanished the very first day of my many days, and my many lives as a cat.”

“Did you eat them to finally turn into a cat?” said Sourise.

“You shall never know and we would rather not know, wouldn’t we?” Grandma said stretching out, and stepping out of her hatbox. “I’ve got some running around the house to do. Have a good night sleep, and sweetly delicious dreams, children.”

“Have a fun night grandma,” Sourise said.

“Sweetly delicious dreams,” Raton repeated before falling asleep.

THE END