Mr. Mouse

While walking though the field, I came upon a deer mouse that leapt through the grass ahead of me.  Startled at first, I took a moment to watch him move along to one of the large Christmas trees and  I peeked under the tree to see where he might be going. Curious about my attention, the mouse turned back toward me, wiggled his whiskers and greeted me with a warm hello between some friendly chirps. Quick introductions led to an invitation to his home.  Still kneeling down, I crawled around the tree to follow, and as I worked my way around the tree, a distinctly tingling sensation preceded the shrinking of my body until I appeared to be mouse size.  Satisfied that I would fit, Mr. Mouse led me into the tunnel that serviced his home whereupon I was greeted by Mrs. Mouse, who, coincidentally, shared Mr. Mouse’s predilection for wiggling whiskers as a form of communication. The house was surprisingly warm and spacious, and even bright as it was lit by the tiniest of candles.  I accepted the offer of tea and had a delightful time chatting with my hosts.  Before too long, I realized that I must be going before my own family became concerned over my unexplained absence.  With many thanks and an invitation to visit again, I made my way out the tunnel.  Rounding the underside of the tree, the tingling sensation returned as my body resumed normal height.  I stood up, dusted myself off and made my way across the field to share my adventure with Willow.  Each day at the farm since, we have returned to the tree to see if Mr. Mouse is home for another visit.  We diligently crawl around the tree, making our way deeper under the branches as we slowly shrink in size.  To date, no one has been home to invite us back just yet.

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