A Special Friend

A Wild Mouse Named Furball. A TRUE story.

This is the true story, as I surmise it, of a wild mouse I originally called Furball, a longtime resident and companion in my home.
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(I can imagine this occurring in my backyard with a group of young mice playing in the sunlight.)

"Jeff-er-ie . Jeff-er-ie Meescowski. You get back in this burrow. Right now, Jeffery or I'll spank your little butt," Jeffery's mother called toward him. He and other young mice were playing near a human house, a no-no to their parents. Jeff knew she was serious by the way she said "Jeff-er-ie." Mable Meescowski never called him that unless she was very angry.

"Aww, Jeff," Rollie Mousie complained, "why do they have to be that way? We keep watch for cats and dogs. And nobody else hangs around human stuff. Nobody that would hurt us."

Julie Cheesy groaned and replied, "Nobody likes that uggy human stink ceptin' for dogs, cats ... an Jeff." She turned and cuffed Rollie in the side. "Come on, Rollie. Jeff's a crybaby. Let's us go play in the cornfield. See ya later, crybaby Jefferieeee."

Angry at his mother, Jeff took one more look at that huge human structure and hurried back to his burrow to avoid a spanking. For some reason the human-thing seemed to call out to him. He simply couldn't stay away and was constantly luring his friends to go over there with him for moral support. Jeff found he could even stand that exotic human odor. If he breathed slow, that is.

***

Two months later, Jeff's mother called everybody together for a family meeting. As all fifteen young mice and her filled the living-room of their burrow, Mabel wiped misting eyes. It would be the last time she saw them together. Mabel had become pregnant again and had no room or time for taking care of two litters.

"Children.... Children...." She had to pause to blow her snout. "Kids -- Albert, you stop that. Leave your sister alone. Hear me, Albert?" Starting again, she raised hands for silence. "Children. The time has come, has come for you to go out into the world. To spread out and learn to live on your own."

"Ma. Joey's standing on my tail. Make him stop."

"Shut up, Alice. Joey, get off her tail and pay attention." She shook her head and continued, "As I said, you will all have to leave here. All but Tommy. He has a bad leg and can't run fast. The rest of you will have a few days to decide what you want to do for a living and where you want to go.

"Mr. Squiggy Squirrel has agreed to take you wherever you decide. Mr. Meechie Mousie is kind enough to give some of you jobs in his radish field -- if you want that kind of work. And Miss Greta Groundhog is willing to train a couple of you girls how to sew grass mats if you prefer to learn that skill."

"Can I go to France, Mama?" Tammy asked. "Will Squiggy take me there?"

"No, Tammy. I don't think Mr. Squirrel will take you to France. You'll have to find your own way," Mabel told her daughter, tears in her own eyes. She had serious doubts about that flighty girl.

During the next few days, Squiggy carried young mice around the neighborhood. A few of the girls walked across the road, after looking both ways, to Miss Groundhog's home. Some others packed big lunches and, after hugging and kissing their mother, wandered off on their own.

Jeff pondered for a couple of days. He waited until four of his brothers were ready to leave, jumped into line ahead of them, quickly kissed his mother, said goodbye and headed for the burrow entrance.

While she was busy with the brothers, Jeff ran as fast as he could for the human house, dodging under the foundation before his mother could see him. He had made his decision, for better or for worse. A mouse has to do what a mouse has to do.

He found himself in a large empty space. Although he was standing in sunlight, much of the area around him was dark and menacing to a young rodent. Jeff scurried out of the light, dodging behind a loose brick. Heart beating wildly, an anxious look in his young eyes, he stuck his head out to look around, ears and head swinging while looking and listening for enemies.

The space was huge, he thought, but it can't be all there was? After all, there were no humans around -- and he'd see the huge critters if there were. Jeff knew there was at least one that lived in the thing. He'd seen it going in and out, shaking the ground as it walked. Above his head, way up there, was a top that looked like it was made of wood and metal. The only difference Jeff knew was that wood was chewable and metal was not.

He shook his head. How was he to get up that high? And what would he do if he did? He still had no way to get through the top thing -- unless he chewed, and it looked nasty and thick. And ... and, he thought, looking around, what monsters could be waiting in those shadows? Would they come out at night and eat him? Were they, even now, grinning and sharpening their teeth in the darkness behind that concrete block over there?

Jeff stood for long moments, shivering at the unknown and thinking of some huge creature ripping his legs off, even while his head sat alone on the ground and watch....

"Stop it," he screamed into the darkness, surprised at his own echoing voice. Nothing came out to look for him. He saw no evil eyes glaring from the shadows. His voice faded back into silence.

Jeff saw a long metal pipe on his left. It was covered with insulation and ran along the ground, then angled up to the sky and right into the human-thing. Jeff could even see a small platform right under the top of the piping. Looking around carefully, the mouse took a deep breath and picked up his lunch-sack with his teeth. Heart beating wildly, he ran over and up the pipe, tiny fingernails digging into the insulation.

He didn't slow down until he stood, panting heavily, on a very dusty metal platform where two pipes were joined by a large nut. The tiny mouse had trouble believing he'd run that high and that far. Why, the top was only a few inches above his head. Looking down, young Jeff was surprised at how much he could see. The ground below was spotted with sunbeams and deep shadows, as far as he could see and even farther. There were boards, rusty metal, and other pipes thrown around down there -- but no monsters that he could see. And nothing moved. If they were there, he figured, the creatures must have been looking the other way and not seen him. Otherwise they'd be scrambling up to eat him.

Gratefully, Jeff lay down on the dusty shelter, waiting for his heart to stop beating so wildly. He ate his lunch and, feeling safer, slept. The slumber brought on bad dreams about a lonely life without his family....

"Get your nasty foot off my face, Jeff," one of his sisters complained as the family slept together on a particularly cold winter night, huddled in a mass in the deepest part of the burrow. "You're a bad brother." 

Nobody wanted to sleep on the outside top because of cold winds seeping in. The large throbbing jumble would be constantly shifting as those on the outside got cold, woke, and burrowed down to keep warm, forcing still sleeping brothers and sisters to the top.

In that instance, the cold had woken Jeff, where he'd found the others had shoved him to the top of the heap. He stepped again on his sister, June's, head and shoved his body downward into warmth....

"Oh. Oof!" Jeff woke, back to reality. He'd been kicking against the pipe itself, which did no good. But ... but the pipe was now warmer. It gave a gurgling sound as water flowed through it. A small hole in the joint where he lay emitted drops of water, slowly gathering together to drip downward to the ground. Gratefully and thirstily, Jeff tasted it.

"Uggggh." He spit, and spit again, a bad taste in his mouth. What WAS that stuff? (What it was was his first taste of how strangely humans lived.) "Guussspit," he spit again. Jeff didn't blame the human for throwing that stuff away. At the same time, he heard a deep rumbling sound. (As I flushed the toilet.)

Jeff did see light coming from where the pipe entered the surface above. He stood on hind legs, stretching up toward where metal entered the hole. Jeff could almost see the other side -- almost. Looking down into darkness far below, he took a deep breath and lunged upward at an angle, claws frantically clutching for the opening. If he didn't make it, he might fall all the way to the ground. But there was no time for fear.

Tiny young fingers clutched at the sky, grabbing hold. His eyebrows hit against hard wood, back legs swinging, scratching as they tried for purchase. Pulling in his tummy, Jeff's wildly thrusting back-claws bit into the pipe's insulation and helped push him upwards. Tucking his chin way down, Jeff managed to force head and clutching hands inside, over the top itself, back legs swinging freely into empty space. 

Taking time to catch his breath, the panting rodent could see a vast expanse of white stuff above him. Stretching his neck against one side of the hole and elbows against the other, he rested for a few moments, the rest of his body hanging free. The young mouse carefully pulled himself up, inside the human thing.

Jeff stood on shaky legs, looking around to see white porcelain all around, except for under him. That surface was wood. Light came from a spot along the edge, where the toilet itself sat on a sort of circling rubber washer. The rubber was broken or crumpled at that one spot, letting in warm air and light. Although too small for a mouse, he spent hours nibbling at that opening, leaving a pile of particles around himself as he chewed until he could squeeze through the hole. 

At last. His dream had come true. He was inside the gigantic towering human thing. 
Although frightened and exhausted, Jeff Meescowski couldn't help but smile. He had made it into the thing, his lifelong ambition. Now, he thought, he could live like a human -- if he could stand that human stink. And, he thought, there must be great treasures in the place. The mouse had dreamed of piles of food, more than a mouse could ever eat. Already, he could feel, it was so much warmer than outside at night. And all the light? All the light in the world must come in here at night. He'd sometimes wondered where it went.

Above and mixed in with the human smell were many others, some nice and others not so nice. He could, for instance, smell a cat. Not only that, but also rat. One time, him and Squeeky had found a dead rat and it smelled very bad. As they watched, a possum had come by and ate the thing. Uggggy.

The huge shiny-white toilet towered above him. There was a cabinet next to the shiny thing, with a lot of space underneath. Going under it, Jeff found loose paper, very soft paper. Tired from his adventure, he made a quick nest and slept for a few hours.

When he woke, it was dark. Where did all the light go? he wondered. Was there a sun in there? One that could be turned off and on? Well, he was rested and ready for adventure. Enough light came in for him to see, so he left the bathroom to explore. Still hungry and thirsty, he hoped to find something to eat. He could smell human, very strongly, as he entered a bedroom the cliff of a bed along one wall, table legs along his other side to give him shelter.

Keeping close to the wall, sniffing as he went, Jeff crept between a large dresser and the wall. Turning a corner, the cat and rat smell grew stronger. The mouse saw a large opening, more light coming from there. Cautiously, he crept into the kitchen.

Something smelled good. Jeff could also sniff water. Creeping along a wall, he eventually came to a bowl of food, cat smell strong around it. There was also a bowl of water. He knelt down near it, ready to run as he peered around for the cat he knew was around there somewhere. 

Although his mouth was watering, he knew he had to try to find the cat before he could eat. If it caught him while eating, he would be defenseless. And he needed shelter. Jeff knew he'd be slow after eating and drinking his fill and need a place to hide afterward. His nest in the bathroom would be too far away. And that nest was too open. A cat could get him in there.

Jeff saw a crack between a cupboard and a wall. Knowing he should explore it, but very hungry, Jeff took a chance. (Not a good thing for a mouse to do.) Bracing front feet on the edge of the bowl, he reached in to lick up yummy cat-food. It was the canned type, with enough moisture that he wouldn't need a drink.

Full, indeed stuffed like a turkey, Jeff staggered into the nearby crack between kitchen counter and wall. At the rear, he looked up, way up, at a tower of wood. It was broken in places by long rectangular open spaces. In front of him lay a forest of metal pans and skillets, old mouse droppings and dust filling the back of the cabinet. Pipes (Under the kitchen sink.) led from floor to ceiling.

It looked comfortable enough, although he couldn't see any paper or cloth to make a nest. Still, it was better than the bare ground outside. Crawling into a corner, he rested, waiting for digestion to make him more nimble. To the mouse, it felt good to be full of food and in a warm dry place. Not hungry and in a drafty cold burrow like the night before. He did miss his mother and siblings, though.

***

Morning brought a more warming light into the space. In his excitement before sleeping, Jeff hadn't noticed the difference. Now that a warming sunbeam filtered under the sink from a window across the room, Jeff recalled the former light hadn't given off any heat. Now, he felt much better and ready for exploring. 

First, he thought, he would inspect his present location, the one filled with metal objects. Clambering onto a pot, he tentatively walked across a slippery surface, fingers having no purchase at all. Near the other side, the thing made a loud "Clang," tipping over and dumping the mouse into a large kettle. Surrounded by high metal walls, he had to use all his strength to jump out past the rim.

Jeff landed in a smaller pan, knees hitting with a jolt of pain and bumping his snout against cold hard metal. He lay for minutes, suffering in silence. It was a skillet, the rim low enough to crawl over, back legs frantically clawing for purchase. At least it forced all that poop out of him, he thought, again standing on the wooden floor.

Still in pain, the mouse tired of crawling around those dangerous things and kept to the edges as he made his way back to the rear of the storage space. Now what would even a human want with those things? he wondered.

Taking a deep breath, Jeff jumped as high as he could with sore knees, front paws grasping the rim of the bottom drawer. With a mighty kick, he fell inside, amid a pile of more metal. He recognized a hammer, having seen one while playing. This one wasn't rusty like the first. He didn't know what those long things were, having never seen screwdrivers or other tools. Jeff tested a loose screw with his teeth, finding it inedible.

After a brief exploration, he tried the next drawer. It was filled with cloth, perfect for a nest but, again, no food. Since the mouse wasn't tired, or particularly hungry, he jumped up to the next drawer, finding it also full of unknown metal objects. Looking over the back rim, he saw only one drawer to go. Also that it was a long way down to the floor. Shrugging, might as well, he thought, Jeff made the final jump, almost hitting his head on the underside of the kitchen counter.

That drawer was also filled with unknown metal implements. The only difference being that they were in orderly rows. (A silverware drawer.) By then, Jeff was tired by all that exertion, and feeling the need to empty his bowels again. And, he thought, he was probably the only mouse to make it that far and really should mark it for the next guy that climbed that high. For those reasons he sprinkled the area liberally, pumping his little bowels and bladder to get everything out. He then lay down for a nap.

 ***

 "Slam." "Bam." Harsher light filled the front of the drawer. Jeff jumped to his feet, wiping sleep out of his eye with one hand. A huge human claw appeared, filling half the open space, grasping for one of the metal objects.

"What the hell! Mouse turds. Darn it, I have a mouse in here."

Jeff understood a little, but very little, human language. He’d been third from the bottom in his Animal School English class. But he had no doubt at all at the tone. Huddled against the back of the drawer, he heard words he knew he hadn't been taught in school, as the human jerked the drawer in and out. Jeff would have loved to jump out the back, but didn't dare.

In silence, heart beating wildly, he waited until the human walked away. Then he scurried out the back and jumped down, heedless of skinned knees or bumped snouts. 

Trying to make himself seem small against the back wall, Jeff heard drawers open and slam. The doors in front of his hiding place were pulled open, light flooding in as pots and pans were slammed around. What, he wondered, did I do to make that human so angry? Maybe the human hadn't seen his territorial markings? Jeff thought, making up his mind to make it more obvious later. Certainly not at that moment.

***

Matters in his new home were quiet enough for several days. Jeff was careful to stay out of trouble. He marked his presence occasionally in the back of the silverware drawer and didn't hear anymore cursing. The old female cat was easy enough to avoid and cat food was good and plentiful. His only problem seemed to be water. Sometimes it was hard to find or tasted bad. For awhile, he found mousetraps set around the walls and inside cupboards. Since his schooling had included pictures of them, as well as how to steal their food, the traps didn't bother the mouse. 

One morning, in the bathroom, he climbed up a tall wooden pole to watch a human doing something to his face. ( I was shaving.) A loud buzzing filled the room as the guy ran something around on his snout. When the human bent over him, extending a claw, Jeff tried to be brave. As the digit came close, he lost his courage and jumped back to the floor to run. 

( Noticing a movement down by the toilet, I saw a tiny mouse perched on my toilet plunger. He was a brave little guy, sitting and watching as I reached down to almost touch him before jumping down,looked up at me, then walked away. That bravery is what first ingratiated Jeff to me. )

Since there was a cat, he spent most of his time -- except for eating -- in the bath and bedroom. For some reason, the cat never went into that part of the thing.

Jeff built a good nest in the bottom of a closet that the human never seemed to open. The only trouble he had with the human was when exploring another, larger, closet. Jeff simply couldn't help himself. 

When he slid under that door it was like entering mouse heaven.

That closet was high, with many layers of shelves. Although the surfaces were elevated, another set of shelves on the back of the door made it easy to jump back and forth, from wooden to plastic shelving, all the way up to the ceiling.

Each shelf, large and small, was filled with wonderful foods. He could smell it in open and closed boxes enclosed by paper or thin cardboard, easy for him to gnaw open. Canned foods didn’t interest jeff. He spent the rest of the day and almost all night sampling one package after another. Each packet or box seemed more exotic and delicious than the next. Jeff made certain he spread the best foods around their packages so he could find them easily the next time.

Beans made funny sounds as they splattered down the shelves and hit, bouncing, onto the floor. Noodles and rice crunched under nimble little feet as he walked across them, stopping to eat a stray grain or two as he explored. 

The first packet of gravy mix was too salty, but the next was tasty. He opened them all so he could try and compare flavors. Cracker crumbs clung to his legs and dropped off as he jumped to another shelf to discover oatmeal. Oh, that delightful oatmeal, much better than plain flour -- which stuck to his feet and made prints, or yellow cornmeal.

Eventually Jeff made it to the very top, a shelf on the door. That was when he saw the entire human for the first time, other than only a paw. The closet door opened, the human standing there, looking over the mouse's handiwork.

The human screamed, causing Jeff to jump in panic. "What the hell has that furball done now? Look at this mess. Thirty or forty dollars worth of damage."

Jeff glanced down and around. It looked okay to him. He rose up to answer the question. That was when the human saw his head poking out.

"I'll get you you little b*****d." The human reached out a paw toward Jeff. "Tear up my pantry, will you?"

Oops, that tone again. Jeff dove for the nearest wooden shelf, alternating with the ones on the door as the human clutched futilely at the panicked mouse. Jeff hit the floor at a frantic clip, little legs pumping furiously.

Running through a doorway to the bedroom, Jeff scurried under the edge of a closet door and hid in his nest. He could hear the angry human running around and using those strange words. When affairs quieted down again, Jeff left for that heavenly closet but found the space under the door sealed. He couldn't get back in.

*** 

Later that day Jeff, going out to check the living room and his "heaven closet" found a low bowl filled with food and a can-lid of fresh water sitting along the sideboard near his closet. His mother had raised a cautious mouse. He made a wide detour around the stuff. After a few hours of exploring, he made his way back. 

Jeff was excited, having made a big discovery. The rat smell came from two cages, high up on tables. The vicious creatures were penned in and couldn't harm him. Good for them, Jeff thought. Keep them things locked up. His mother had been particularly anxious to teach her children about rats; ever since one had eaten his Uncle Willy. According to Jeff's mother, Uncle Willy had paused for a moment, one leg lifted to relieve himself, a bad time for the monster to come along.

On the way back, Jeff studied the food left near his nest. Something smelled different -- very good, in fact. There ... there, right on top. A square of chocolate. Having shared a piece with his family once before, the normally cautious mouse couldn't resist. Looking around carefully, he reached in, grabbed the delicacy, and ran like hell, even bouncing his snout on a projection behind the closet door.

For hours, well into the night, that chocolate sat in a corner of his nest, uneaten -- though not untasted. Jeff had been taught that humans often poisoned food to give to mice. When midnight came and he wasn't sick, except for a rumbling tummy, Jeff took another bite. Well, he thought, since there were only four bites left, he'd better finish it off, poison or not.

From then on the human put food down at the end of the bedroom dresser, that and life-giving water. Jeff was soon pigging out. It was even easier than his heaven closet.

But he loved to explore, which was why he was there in the first place. Jeff spent a week searching the bedroom where he had his closet nest, sometimes making noise which caused the human to yell at him to shut up. It irked the mouse that the human didn't know his name and called him a "furball." But at least he knew when the human was talking to him, which was better than nothing at all. 

Once, feeling brave, he approached the human, who was sitting on the sleeping platform. He could see the human looking at him, coming closer but not really threatening. Maybe, just maybe, Jeff thought, he could talk to the guy. He did know a little human talk.

"Jeff." He pointed at himself. "Me Jeff, not Furball."

At first, he thought the human understood. Apparently not.

A huge blunt claw came slowly down to him, briefly rubbing his fur before Jeff could dart backwards. It had that icky human stink to it.

"Why hello, Furball. What you been up to?"

"I'm Jeff, not Furball," he yelled back, sounding more of a squeak to the human.

As another claw extended next to the first, Jeff thought that discretion was the best part of valor, and darted under the dresser. The human didn't seem to follow him.

Another night, he'd found a big box with small red and white lights on the front. Going behind it he saw, through a slit, more lights inside. There was also a curious "whirl" sound from inside, as if it were alive. Curious, Jeff couldn't resist. He gazed skyward and saw the human was doing something way up there, but didn't see him. The mouse squeezed through the tempting opening, finding himself in a strange place. ( My computer.) 

Jeff climbed around inside, exploring. There were several small lights, one flashing red. He crawled up to the hard drive, finding that was where the whirring sound was coming from. There was a nice space behind the warm power supply. But nothing at all to eat.

Jumping down, Jeff decided to mark the place for any other mice that might come along. He started by peeing. All was well, liquid splattering across the floor, until the stream hit a wire. "Ziiitttt." Jeff was knocked back against the side of the box. He felt funny, all shivery and nervous. To make it worse, something was shaking the box. Scared poopless, the rat fairly dove back out that hole and under a table.

***

Hearing a thump coming from my computer, I checked it out, finding mouse s**t across the inside. Nothing was damaged and he never did it again.

Another time, about six am I was lying in bed. I heard the mouse puttering around across the room. Suddenly, there was a sharp noise and I smelled ozone. At the same time, the mouse “yipped” and a gray streak ran across the floor. He’d bitten an electrical wire.

For about a week, the mouse wouldn’t touch corn or anything chewable, though scarfing up cooked oatmeal. I’d bet he had a sore mouth and he never touched a wire after that.

***

Jeff was a sociable guy, increasingly lonely without companionship. He even visited his mother. She, however, was busy with a new batch of brothers and sisters and didn't have time for him. He soon tired of receiving short answers and helping her and Tommy change diapers. He wanted to invite Tommy to move in with him but knew his brother couldn't make it up his pipe with that gimpy leg.

Making friends with the cat was out, but sometimes rats could, just could, be friendly. And he was safe with them in those cages.

With that idea in mind, Jeff went out one morning to check the rats out. One cage was out of reach, though he could hear the two rats inside talking and laughing together. The other one, set against a window, had a heavy curtain behind it. Testing the cloth, Jeff extended his fingers and found that if he took a running start and a big jump he could scamper up to the cage.

Jeez, he thought, that was a big rat. It was in a plastic house at the bottom of the cage, still sound asleep. Jeff shook his head. Uh, uh, he thought. He's not going to wake that monster up. It was twenty times his size and could bite him in two. 

While he was up there, he considered, he might as well explore. The wire cage had four levels and he could squeeze between the bars. The mouse, keeping a careful eye on the sleeping monster, did so. Running up a ramp on tip-toes, he advanced to the top where a bowl of fresh food waited.

He could see all the way down inside, and the rat was still sleeping.

"Hey you. What you want in there?"

Jeff looked over, seeing one of the other rats, thankfully in the other cage, looking at him.

"You get out of there. Oscar will have YOU for breakfast. He's a vicious guy and hates meeses," a light-colored rat told the mouse.

"Yeah. You get out or I'll wake him up and he'll eat you." Another furry head appeared alongside the first.

Jeff looked down again, trying to estimate whether he'd have time to escape if the monster did wake. Yep. He decided ... plenty of time to squeeze out onto the curtain. Jeff stood on his hind legs and stuck his snout into the food. It was corn and green beans, the same as in his own bowl, he found but it was the idea that counted. He shrugged, smiled at the others, and dug in.

What he didn't know was that the noise and activity attracted other attention. Suddenly a human hand came in, grabbing Jeff into its large claws. Although he screamed and struggled, the mouse was caught.

*** 

"Thud." "Thud." "Thud." "Thud." Not able to see his captor, Jeff shook up and down as the human trampled along as humans do. He whimpered, fully expecting to die. His mother had told him that humans shot mice in the head then put them in stew.

"I finally caught you, you little devil," the human told him. "You've caused me enough trouble."

A couple of minutes later, the claw opened and Jeff found himself lying in tall grass, the human towering far above. Two squares of chocolate lay near him.

"Good luck, little Furball." The human turned and stomped away.

***

After I returned to the house I was, in a real sense, sorry I'd put the little guy outside. I'd gotten sort of used to him and wondered if he would be okay out in the wilds of my back yard? Of course he should. He had been born there. But would he? Sure he would. I dunno? Forget it. He's a wild mouse. I know, but...?

A few hours later, after dark, I found a flashlight and went out in the field to look for the small mouse, but couldn't find him. I hoped he was alright. On one hand, he had cost me money and was a pest. On the other, he was a personable and brave little character.

I wondered if he were alone. Could one mouse cause all that damage and trouble? By himself?

So I put more chocolate and dry noodles down in his food bowl, checking it often during the day. No one ate anything, so he must have been alone. The poor little critter.

***

Nice of that human to take him near his mother's burrow, Jeff thought. It was only a few minutes easy walk to get there, made harder by dragging chocolate. The mouse spent the rest of the afternoon visiting with his mother and Tommy. The new children were older now and clustered around their brother Jeff. They enjoyed his stories about living with a human. His mother didn't, and shook her head as he talked.

It was a nice visit but, later that night, Jeff left to go back home -- to his human house. He was pleased to see there was new food in his bowl and fresh water to assuage his thirst. Feeling a little uncomfortable with the human, Jeff decided to be careful and not be seen.

***

He didn't have to be seen. I knew he was there by the eaten foodstuff. If I didn't feed him well the cat or rats would get him or he might get back into the pantry. Since he avoided all my humane traps and made less trouble when fed, I fed him. The next day, I queried a mouse fancier site. I was told that when a wild mouse was dumped outside he often returned on his own. The same as a cat or dog.

***

Again, affairs went well, Jeff coming out only at night when the human was asleep, to eat. But he couldn't stay quiet. It wasn't in his nature. 

Continuing his exploration of the bedroom, Jeff found a strange plastic thing lying on top of the dresser, smelling strongly of human. Carefully, he pried up one of seven little lids to see what was inside. The lid was tight, so he gave a mighty tug -- mighty for a mouse -- throwing the thing onto its side, brightly-colored round objects spinning out. Jeff pushed them around, dropping two to the floor to see it they'd bounce like the beans had. They didn't, simply dropping into a rug. He nibbled one, but it tasted bad. The heck with it, Jeff went back to his nest.

***

That damned mouse. He got into one section of my weekly-pill container, spilling Saturday’s medication over the dresser and floor.

For over a year, Jeff stayed mainly in the bedroom. He was frightened of the cat, who owned the rest of the house, only leaving in the night while the cat slept. The cat was named China and over twenty-years old. As far as I know it never did bother Jeff. 

I’ve seen Jeff walk across the living room floor within a few feet of China, the cat merely watching. After a while he even got along with the ratties, rubbing noses through the bars of their cage. That was after I made Jeff an official member of my diversified family.

He usually slept during the day, knocking around and doing mouse stuff during the night. Jeff would wake about four in the morning and be active into daylight. He wasn’t afraid of me, though cautious because of being tossed outside that one time.

Then the old cat died and Jeff took over the rest of the house, building nests in every room. He sometimes fought other mice that wanted to challenge HIS territory. No other mouse was allowed inside. I found male mice are very territorial. By the time he left he was the largest mouse I’ve ever seen, about a third the size of a rattie. 

After all, he was probably the best fed and protected mouse in town. When I fed the ratties their evening meal, I did the same for Jeff. All would have an assortment of their favorite foods. Jeff ate mostly veggies and fruits, with a few seeds thrown in. Like the ratties, he loved his chocolate and cookies, given only as a rare treat. Many times, while putting down a bowl contained a bit of chocolate I’d see him watching nearby. He could smell it.  None of them would eat meat of any kind.

Jeff and the ratties developed a mixed relationship. When confined in their cages, they were friends, Jeff often standing nose to nose or even rubbing whiskers. When they were let out to play, he'd become jealous. The cage was their territory, the rest of the house his. 

Twice, when the rats were let out to play together on my couch I had to chase Jeff away. He’d jump to the top of the couch, showing his teeth, posturing and looking like he was raring for a fight.

There was only one other time when he made me angry. That was when he destroyed an expensive dot-matrix printer. I hadn’t used the thing for maybe a year. When I tried, I saw a puff of smoke and smelled ozone. Opening the case, I found one of Jeff’s numerous nests. He’d also chewed vital wiring to help with the nest. I was so angry that I set every mouse trap in the house, even leaving them overnight. Coming to my senses, I realized it wasn’t his fault and apologized. 

He wasn’t really afraid of me and his antics were sometimes amusing. He’d start in the aft bedroom, run full blast from there, little feet sliding noisily on linoleum as he crossed onto the living room rug -- then run full out into the tv stand, bouncing off to shake his head. Then he’d jump from a standing start to a partition between living room and kitchen, over it, and spin into the other bedroom. I saw him do that several times. I’d hear his feet sliding, then look up to watch. Other times, he’d simply walk around, unafraid. It was, you know, his house.

Jeff was with me for a little over 2 1/2 years. As we both aged, he stopped causing me anxiety. We learned to live with each other. I hope we were friends. 

His biggest failing was in going outside, especially at night. He’d return with mouthfuls of grass and occasionally dragging weeds behind himself. I’d see them on the floor and throw them away. It became normal for the guy to be gone two or three days at a time. Until the time he didn’t return.

In hopes he’d come back, I refreshed his food and water bowls for a couple of weeks before giving up. Yes, Jeff was a good companion and a brave little critter. He earned the name of Jeffery Meescowski instead of Furball.

The End. The other sections can be found in my portfolio.
Charlie

NOTE: About a year after Jeff left, hearing something I sat up and looked down by my comfy chair. I saw a large though skinny mouse looking up at me. He appeared to be either old or sick. I picked him up with a tissue and placed him on a paper plate with a lid of water and piece of chocolate. I petted him with no complaint. The next morning he was still there … dead. I don’t know if it was Jeff coming home, but think it probably was. Since Jeff moved in, I haven’t seen another mouse in my home. That was ten or twelve years ago but I still miss the little guy.

Charlie