Mr. Tubby and the Big House

In a burrow beneath the fence at the back of the garden beyond the big house lived a mouse family. Mother and Father lived with their two little mice, Squeaks and Spots. Spots was a beautiful little girl mouse, with two white spots near her tail. She was older than Squeaks by two minutes and she tortured him often because, after all, he was the youngest.

Squeaks was named for the tiny little sounds he made when he was born, which he thought rather unfair, since he was now several weeks old and certainly didn't squeak anymore, at least not much.

It was a cozy little home for the four of them with tunnels all along the fence, under the grassy field beyond and beneath the garden, which until recently had provided a bounty of carrots and cabbage and broccoli to eat. Seeds had fallen from the sunflowers, knocked loose by the squirrels and large birds that had come to eat. There was a stash of food in the tunnels beyond their den, and Mother said they nearly had enough for winter.

Squeaks peeked out from beneath the thick layer of hay and leaves that the people had put on top of their garden. Not only did it make for lovely bedding, it gave him a safe place to spy out the yard and the skies above for predators. There occasionally were birds that flew over that might think of him as a good meal, but mostly he was afraid of the dogs. The big dog, Good Boy, didn't bother him much. He was always playing with plastic bottles from the people in the house, but the little dog, Precious, was always sniffing around looking for him. She would follow his trail around the yard until she lost the scent in the decomposing leaves, grass and hay in the garden patch.

Carefully he peered around the yard, looking this way and that for any signs of trouble before he dashed out onto open ground and ran for the woodpile. Seeds often fell from the birdfeeders above the woodpile and provided a special treat for Squeaks and his family.

Today he found a peanut! Oh, he was so excited. He shoved it into his mouth and carried it back to his den to share with the whole family.

"Oh, my," his mother exclaimed. "This is such a feast!" She made much of his find and Squeaks was very proud of himself.

Spots was annoyed at the attention her brother was getting. "How do we know where he found it? Maybe he went on the deck." She gave her brother an evil grin behind her mother's back.

"Did you go beyond the woodpile?" his mother asked sternly. "Did you go into the people place?"

"No, I didn't." Squeaks voice trembled and got very high and full of squeaks as he defended himself. He was very upset. He really didn't go beyond the woodpile...this time.

Squeaks was obsessed with the big house and the people in it, especially the lady who called the dogs and shut the door after bringing them inside. He was obsessed with the light streaming from the windows, making warm glowing patches on the garden at night, and he was obsessed with the music, the smells, and the voice of the lady who lived in the Big House. He had explored several times the edges of the house, looking to find the way in his father had mentioned. It was a big house and Squeaks had yet to find the entrance.

Day passed into night, and the mouse family had their special meal with the peanut Squeaks had brought as the main course. Father had gathered some fallen raspberries from beyond the far fence, and mother had found a small carrot which the people had left behind. Spots had spent the day grooming her fur and had nothing to contribute to the meal.

After dinner, Father told stories of dangerous treks to the lands beyond the fence, and Mother handed around water in acorn caps she had brought found in an abandoned squirrel cache years ago. No one knew where the acorns had come from, for they had never found an acorn tree.

Afterwards they lay, full and satisfied on their grassy beds. Soon Squeaks could hear the light snoring of Father and Mother, and the deep breathing of his sister. Squeaks could not sleep. He could feel the moon through the ground above him. He could feel the call of the Big House as he lay in his bed.

Tossing and turning, Squeaks tried to think of something else. He tried to think of anything but the Big House. He tried to remember his parents warnings and he tried to talk himself out of it. Soon, though, he crawled from his bed, took one last lingering look at his sleeping family and crept out of the burrow into the moonlight.

The pumpkin vine gave perfect cover for him in the darkness. The large leaves were beginning to turn brown, but they still provided a place for him to hide from the moonlight as he searched for hidden dangers. Overhead he saw no danger, though his eyes were no match for the birds that hunt by night. Across the yard all was still. His ears twitched this way and that as he listened for the jingling tags that announced the presence of Precious. He cautiously looked about for snakes that would want to eat him as a tasty snack before he cautiously climbed the fence. It was a very long climb as it took a very tall fence to keep Good Boy in the yard. Squeaks was breathing hard as he rested on the top of the fence.

Though the moon shone bright in the sky above, Squeaks gasped at the beauty of the light through the windows. He could hear faint music and saw the lady moving from window to window.

He was lucky no dangerous beasts were about as he stared at the house. He was highlighted against the sky where anyone looking could have seen him, but he did not think about the danger even once. The beauty and the warmth coming from the house enthralled him. He simply must see what was inside.

For many minutes, perhaps even an hour, he sat at the top of the fence, staring at the Big House across the yard until, to his dismay, the lady covered the windows and, slowly many of the lights went out. Longing for more, he didn't think about it, but ran down the fence post, across the yard, under the wood pile and then he went further than he had ever gone before. He raced up the stairs, along the railing until he came to the outside of the house. He looked around for a way to keep his upward climb to the window above him. Sniffing around, he looked this way and that for an entrance. He didn't see any openings in the dark.

The back door slid open, startling him. Quickly, he hid behind a potted plant on the railing.

"Go ahead, puppies." The lady let Good Boy and Precious out to go to the bathroom for the night. Precious raced across the deck, nose to the ground before lifting her head and looking right at the pot that Squeaks was hiding behind.

"What is it, Precious?" asked the lady, following the beagle onto the deck. "There's nothing here. Now you go down and do your business," she good-naturedly scolded the dog and chased her to the top of the stairs. As she looked out into the yard, Squeaks saw his chance and raced down the railing, crossed the deck and over the threshhold and into the Big House, without taking the time to look. As he raced across the floor, he sought someplace to hide. He was hearing the sound of the dogs coming back up the stairs. He was still in the middle of the floor. He looked to the left. Cabinets rose from the floor with out a sliver of distance between them.

Steps were growing closer. He dashed around the corner looking left and right for cover. He could hear the beagle sniffing the ground following his trail. Quickly he ran past a huge gaping hole that ended in total darkness. He sniffed it in passing, but it smelled dead and the walls were too smooth.

In an utter panic, he heard Precious barking right behind him. He was in a hallway with three doors. Darkness beckoned beneath the door to his right. To the left there was light streaming under that door, but there was noise there too that scared him. Directly in front of him was a faint light coming under the door and he thought he smelled water, so without another thought he squeezed under that door and narrowly escaped the beagle who began to bark and sniff and circle in the hall behind him.

"Stop that racket!" he heard the lady order Precious. "Honestly, I don't know what gets into you sometimes." Trembling, he sat for a moment in the dim light of a small room. A single small bulb shone from the wall, casting a glow that allowed him to get his bearings. In all his father's tales about exploring human dwellings, he did not remember hearing about anything like this. There was what appeared to be what his father called a cabinet against the wall, but the floors were cold and hard and a little slippery. As he moved forward cautiously, he was looking for the source of the water he smelled. Running and fear had made him very thirsty.

He smelled water from two tall gleaming white things. The first one had a strange shape and even though he ran around it twice looking, he could not find anyway to climb the slippery thing. He tried jumping against it, but slid down the side and fell on the floor. He went to investigate the other water source, even though it had a fainter smell. It too had smooth sides that he could not climb, but next to the wall, he found a fluffy towel. Climbing it, he found his way to the top of the white thing. It was a puzzling hole. Large and gleaming with smooth sides. He began to race around the side, seeking a way to the water. In the far corner there was a single drop of water which he quickly drank. He could see several more drops in the depths of the white pit with the slippery, shiny sides. Cautiously he moved forward, creeping closer and closer to the edge.

Suddenly his feet were in something sticky and slippery. He lost his grip and began sliding down, down, down into the pit. He fell a long way and hit the bottom with a sound he thought would bring the people running. He lay there stunned, trying to catch his breath. The cold surface felt good on his cheek.

He was very frightened. As soon as he could catch his breath he got up and tried to find a way out. Squeaks had no way to escape his cold white prison. He crawled to the nearest water drop and drank it nearly dry. Tears ran down his face. His parents did not know where he was and he was trapped. The small light did not illuminate his prison very well, which he began to think might be a good thing. He was so terribly exposed. No soft grasses to lie in, the ceiling was so far above him that it only made him more afraid. As he lay there, his tummy rumbled. He wished he had eaten more at dinner, or that he had brought something with him.

He thought of the tales his father had told him of exploring the Big House and of the feasts he had found, with cheese lying on the countertop, breads, and huge containers of cereals and other goodies everywhere. Nowhere was there food for him.

Mother, he cried silently. Father. He lay there, curled up in misery until he could no longer contain the tears. Tiny squeaks escaped as he tried not to sob. He cried himself to sleep, laying there in his shiny, slippery prison.

Mother and Father awoke before dawn, as they usually did. At the same time they exclaimed, "Squeaks is gone!" The alarm in their voices woke Spots, who yawned sleepily, stretching her arms out in front of her. "What's going on?" she asked through her yawn.

Mother and Father looked at each other. "Squeaks isn't here," her mother said as calmly as possible.

"Where would he go this early?" she asked.

The entire den was silent. One by one, they all began to think their fears into words whispered only in their own heads. He went in the Big House. None of them knew why they thought that, but as they looked at each other they became more and more certain, and as they looked from one to the other, they knew that they had all come to the same conclusion. Squeaks had gone into the Big House.

Father sighed, "I should never have told him those stories." No one said a word. What could they say to comfort him?

Finally Spots spoke, "He would probably have gone anyway, someday. You know how he loves the lights."

"How do we find him?" Mother asked quietly. She was wringing her hands, twisting them in her apron.

"I will go and look for him." Father said.

Sadly, they prepared some food for Father to bring with him. Even though he had often told them of all the food inside the big house, he also knew it was dangerous in there. He wanted to get his son out of there as quickly as possible.

Father peered out from under the same leaf his son had used just hours ago. Noting no danger, he ran across the still dark yard. Dawn would come very soon. Reaching the woodpile safely, he paused for a moment. It was a large house and he wasn't sure where to look. Most of the lights were out and he knew from being there in the past, that lights out meant that the people were sleeping. Sleeping people were good. He had very little time before they woke and he would have to avoid being spotted by them and by the dogs.

He raced across the concrete patio, crawled up the side until he reached his goal. The dryer flap had been unused for a long time. He used this to his advantage, slipping past the flap and down the tube. Reaching the end he paused. Where once there had been an opening, there was now a strange tubing, creating an odd tunnel. He cautiously explored the tunnel for a few feet, before returning to his starting place. He didn't see a way out, but down the tube, he saw a small hole that he might be able to push through. As long as he didn't get stuck, he should be able to get into the house and begin searching for Squeaks.

Meanwhile, the house began to stir. The lady was the first one up, followed by the dogs.

"Time to go out?" she asked the dogs as she opened the back door. They ran past her into the yard.

She turned and filled the automatic coffee pot before switching it on. She stood there watching as the coffee slowly dripped into the pot. Before long, she poured a cup and carried it with her, turning lights on as she went. Yawning, she stepped into the bathroom and flipped on the light.

Squeaks, huddled in the darkest corner he could find, was so startled and so frightened--plip! Out popped a turd. He heard the lady coming closer. Plip! Out came another one.

He held perfectly still, if you can hold perfectly still while shaking so hard you think your insides will break loose.

Ears back, his big eyes peered above him.

In the lower parts of the house, Father squeezed himself through the tiniest hole in the dryer hose, making it bigger in the process. Once he was out, he quickly scrambled up the hose, across the ledge and through a hole in the drywall.

Once inside the walls, he was much more comfortable. Where is Squeaks? he wondered to himself. He heard movement upstairs so he quickly climbed the pipes and electrical conduit to the upper level to take a look around. He peered down from atop the kitchen cabinets. No sign of him there. Back through the walls, he looked out through the electrical outlet in the dining room, the one with the loose box. He did not see any sign of his boy. He climbed to the ceilings where he peeked around light sockets and fans in a vain effort to find his boy.

He raced up into the kitchen, sniffing the air, nearly swooning when he smelled peanuts. Maybe Squeaks had smelled them too! He poked his head inside a cabinet, then quietly creeping past stacks of plates, he gently nudged the edge of the door and spied through the narrow opening. Below him lay a bowl--a whole bowl--of peanuts, but Squeaks was nowhere to be seen. He sighed, ready to close the door when a movement caught his eye. Moving quickly, the shadow flicked across the back of the counter opposite, then disappeared down the side of the cabinet. Father held his breath, hoping, waiting. Moments later a nose came over the edge of the counter, followed by the eyes and ears of....a mouse who was clearly not his son. A house mouse.

Across the counter to the edge of the bowl it moved, seemingly unaware of Father's eyes upon him, or the disappointment his appearance brought.

Without turning, his whiskers twitching as paws grasped a peanut, the house mouse's voice called out in the early morning light. "What are you doing here, little field mouse?" Grasping the peanut between his paws, he turned his head to look right into Father's eyes with a decidedly unfriendly stare.

Father gulped. "I, I, I am looking for my son. H-h-h-have you seen him?"

The house mouse sat back on his haunches and took a nibble from the peanut.

"Haven't seen a field mouse in the house in a long time. In fact, there's hardly a house mouse left in the house. Mister uses traps. Hope your boy doesn't get caught in one of those."

The sound of movement in another part of the house startled them both. The house mouse placed the peanut inside his cheek, grabbed another quickly and stuffed it in his other cheek before turning and racing out of sight. Father sighed and allowed the cupboard door to close behind him as he moved quickly back inside the wall to search elsewhere.

He raced to the spot where he could view the living room from a safe point behind the grill of a main vent. He nearly lost his grip when the furnace suddenly kicked on and the noise of the burners and fan were frightening. Father looked around the room, but saw no movement that would indicate Squeaks was there. Turning, he came face to face with House Mouse.

They could hear an alarm going off. "Misses will get up and let the dogs outside now. They better not find your boy before you do." His voice was gruff. "I checked around but couldn't find him for you."

"Th-thank you." Father was puzzled, but polite, as always.

"Just be glad Mister isn't here. My boy got caught in one of his nasty traps and died." He turned and looked back at Father. "You be sure and find your boy," he paused dramatically, "and take him home and out of my house!"

Father wasn't sure what to make of that, so he turned around and looked for a way to get above the room. Leaving the vent system, he raced up cross braces within the wall, first one way and then the other until he reached the ceiling joists. He looked

He heard movement from the bathroom, so he quickly scurried across the ceiling joists past the wall and followed the electrical cords down, looking for a good vantage spot. Looking out through a small gap behind the light, he saw the Lady moving around the bathroom in her robe. He looked all around, seeking his son, but he did not see him.

Where is that boy? he wondered to himself.

The lady moved to the big white pit and lifted a leg as if to step in, but then she shreiked. It was a small shreik, but he heard it all the same. He knew then that if Squeaks was in the house that he had just been found.

He watched as the lady leaned over the tub. "Oh, you poor thing," she cried, "you're more afraid than I am." He watched as she cautiously put her hand in the tub, before quickly withdrawing it.

"Sorry, Mr. Tubby, not sure I want to touch you," she laughed.

Father watched helplessly from his perch in the light fixture over the sink as she quickly emptied a trash can and then lowered it into the tub sideways before shooing his son into the can.

What to do?

Squeaks was more terrified than ever, but as he scurried into the trash can he thought, at least I'm getting out of here.

The lady carried the can and set it on the table in the dining room, far from where the dogs could reach it. All the while she crooned gently over the can and her new tenant.

"Oh, Mr. Tubby. You poor scared thing." She gently carried the can with Squeaks inside out of the room.

As terrified as he was, Squeaks was calmed by her continued gentle talk as she carried him and set the can on top of the dining room table. He could feel his heart pounding thump, thump. thumpety thump. Loudly it beat in his chest. He wrapped his long tail around himself, trying to curl into the smallest possible ball. "Oh you poor thing."

"Ruf. Ruf." Precious began to bark.

He could no longer see the lady above his head but he heard her scolding, "Now you stop that. Stop it right now. You're going to scare him half to death." Her footsteps retreated briefly before returning. She began to tear up kleenex for him, and had gathered leaves and dried grass which she placed on the bottom of the can. "So you can hide," she said.

Squeaks was afraid to move. Long moments passed as he tried to figure a way out of this predicament.