A Giblet & Belle Story: Mittens & The Wrong-Way Mouse

When one contemplates the relationships between cats and mice, you might think it was purely adversarial. This is not true. While some cats may harbor ill will towards some mice, overall, there is a live and let live attitude shared by most.

Years before Giblet and Belle showed up in the new house in Connecticut, Mittens was the new young cat on the scene. She was a freshly trained Protector, eager to begin her work with her new family. The two cats already living in the house, McKayla the striped tabby and Joel Grey the Russian Blue, had heard through the cat network that the new family member was a Protector. Both cats knew the legends of Protectors and their tales of bravery but had never known one personally or had one in their clowder.

They looked forward to the day when Mittens was to arrive and were eager to get to know the newest member of their family. That happened on a rainy Sunday in April. The family brought in the carrier, sat it in a bedroom, and opened the door. The Man and Woman-Person stepped back, and a young, self-assured Maine Coon cat came out of the carrier. She was large and beautifully colored, and unlike most felines in a new situation, this cat seemed completely at ease in a new environment.

The People welcomed their newest cat, letting her sniff their out-stretched hands. After a few moments, they began to pet the new family member, running their hands down her long back, and were rewarded with gentle purrs. They pointed out the food and litter pan for her to use and then left her in the bedroom to settle in.

As soon as the People left, McKayla and Joel Grey came into the bedroom to formally welcome Mittens to the clowder. Greetings were exchanged and noses were sniffed. McKayla was explaining a little about the house and about the People who lived there when Joel’s head came up with a start and he interrupted.

“I’m smellin a varmint in here,” Joel declared with his thick West Virginia drawl, his nose twitching in the air.

“Now that you mention it, I smell something also,” confirmed Mckayla.

Both cats turned questioningly to Mittens. She cast her eyes back to her carrier, looking mildly chagrined.

“I have an answer for this,” Mittens admitted. “You better come out Cecil,” she spoke to the carrier.

A moment later, a large, old mouse came out of the carrier. His fur hung on him like a coat two sizes too big and it was highlighted with an abundance of grey. He squinted at the other cats in a manner that suggested he could not see very well and piped up in his little mouse voice: “Hi ya Mates!”

There was a pause where Joel and McKayla looked down at the mouse, then at each other, then slowly turned to look at Mittens.

“Okay,” Mittens announced. “I can explain…”

————————————

A little while later, Cecil was sitting at the edge of the cat’s food bowl, happily having a snack and gently rocking back and forth. McKayla and Joel were settling down to hear Mittens’ story.

“You both know that I am a Protector, right?” Mittens questioned.

When McKayla and Joel nodded in agreement, she continued.

“Well, I learned my skills from my Mom, who was a Protector for her family and neighborhood for years. She had many associates throughout the area who kept her informed about what was going on. They would bring her information and on occasion have her settle disputes.”

Her audience nodded their heads again, and even Cecil said: “Yup,” in-between mouthfuls of cat food.

“Cecil was one of Mom’s best informants. He brought her a lot of information that allowed Mom to keep the neighborhood safe, including getting a particularly bad person arrested for dealing drugs.”

“He was the neighborhood Candy-Man for sure,” Cecil quipped.

Joel and McKayla stared at the little mouse and when no further explanation was forthcoming, turned to Mittens for an explanation.

“That is slang for a drug dealer,” she admitted. “Anyway, the Dealer is in prison now, but his guard dog ran away and was still living in the neighborhood. He swore vengeance against Mom and those who helped her. It was Cecil who provided the information that Mom needed to arrange the Dealer’s arrest.”

“Since my old family was moving and Mom was not going to be around anymore, I couldn’t leave Cecil behind. His life would have been in danger.”

“Awe you’re just being silly Mittens. There ain’t a dog around that can catch me,” Cecil boasted.

“Actually,” Mittens continued, “Cecil is getting on in years. His mind wanders and he doesn’t see so well anymore.” I thought he could come along and stay with me.”

Joel raised an eyebrow at this but kept silent.

“I am not sure the Woman-Person will like having a mouse around,” McKayla confided.

“An does this here varmint know how to keep a low profile?” Joel asked, breaking his silence.

“Who you callin a varmint, flea-bag?” Cecil said, squinting up at Joel. “I can handle ten cats like you.”

Joel’s only response was to raise an eyebrow again to Mittens.

“Please don’t take anything he says personally. He’s kind of a character and doesn’t mean anything by it,” Mittens assured everyone.

“We will see,” McKayla said to Mittens. “Please keep your little friend from being a nuisance.”

—————————————-

The very next morning, the house was in an uproar. The Woman-Person was screaming for her husband, a cat, anyone to come quick. When the cats and the man appeared, she was pointing to her cereal bowl where a very old mouse was having his morning meal.

Mittens bounded onto the table grabbing Cecil by the scruff of the neck and then went to the kitchen door, patting on it to get outside. The Man-Person opened the door and Mittens hastily took the mouse outside.

Dropping him in the yard, Mittens proceed to explain to him why this was unacceptable.

“All’s I was doing was having a snack,” Cecil protested.

“You simply can’t eat out of the People’s food bowls. I would have brought you something,” Mittens admonished. “When the people leave, we will get you into the basement where you can stay. And this time, stay out of sight.”

“Sure Mittens, no problem,” the mouse replied.

——————————————

The next evening, Mittens was preparing to patrol when Mckayla found her.

“You better get downstairs quickly,” she said.

“Why, what’s wrong?”

“The Woman & Man-Person are watching TV, only what they don’t know is a mouse is watching TV with them,” Mckayla informed her.

Running into the Family room, Mittens saw the Man & Woman-Person laying together on the couch, absorbed in their program. Unbeknownst to them, Cecil was sitting on the back of the couch, watching the same program.

Mittens’ face fell.

She bounded over and up onto the back of the couch. Looking down at the people, and purring loudly, she used her body to block their view as she swished Cecil off the sofa with her bushy tail.

A little while later, an exasperated Mittens confronted Cecil in the basement. However, before she could say anything, Cecil scolded her.

“Why’d you do that? That was one of my favorite programs,” he complained.

Before Mittens could respond, the mouse turned and ran off under several boxes. She was left with a dumbfounded look on her face and a worry about what would happen next.

That worry was short-lived when the next morning, Mittens found Cecil in the basement, gnawing on some exposed wires on the furnace.

“STOP!” she meowed, loud enough to wake the dead. “Those wires have electricity. You will kill yourself.”

“Oh, come off it,” Cecil replied, “I’m just having a little chew to keep my teeth happy.”

McKayla was watching the whole exchange and saw the look on Mittens’s face. Motioning for the younger cat to join her, she offered some advice.

“You don’t have time for this. Taking care of Cecil is a full-time job. I have never seen a mouse make so many wrong decisions in such a short time,” she observed shrewdly. “You must decide where your priorities lie, being a Protector or being a nursemaid.”

“I know you’re right, but I can’t just push him out on his own. He wouldn’t last a day,” she worried aloud.

“Well, you have a choice to make, and I will leave you to it,” McKayla turned and walked away.

Later that day, when she was sure Cecil was asleep, Mittens snuck out of the house to patrol and to think. One of her first encounters in her new neighborhood was with a Great Horned Owl, sitting in the tree in her backyard.

“You must be the new Protector that just moved in,” he hooted kindly, with his deep majestic voice. “I’m Atlas, welcome.”

“Hi, I’m Mittens,” she meowed back. “Does everyone around here know I am a Protector? It’s like someone posted an announcement.”

“Very little around here gets past me,” Atlas said confidently. “Having a Protector here is a big deal, but I see you look upset.”

“It’s my friend Cecil. He came with me from my old home, and I am supposed to look after him,” she admitted with a sigh. “It’s turning out to be more of a challenge than I expected.”

“You mean that old mouse who’s waving at you right now,” Atlas responded with a twinkle in his big eyes.

Turning her head and looking at the back of the house, she saw Cecil sitting on the windowsill waving his little paw at her.

“Yeah, that’s him all right,” Mittens said with a shake of her head.  Then off the cuff, she asked, “I don’t suppose you know a nice mouse family that would like an eccentric uncle?”

Atlas hooted a great big laugh at Mittens’ question. “As a matter of fact, there is a house around the corner with a mouse family living in the garage. You could ask them.”

“No kidding? I may have to look them up,” she said. Then thinking knowing someone in common with the mice might be a nice segue into asking for a favor, she inquired, “So how do you know the mice?”

“I ate one of them the other day,” Atlas responded, matter-of-factly.

“Oh,” Mittens meowed softly, wishing now she hadn’t asked.

———————————–

Later that day, Mittens found the garage that Atlas had described and the mouse hole where they came and went. She sat down and meowed out a greeting, hoping that one of the mice would come out.

Indeed, a minute later a mouse appeared in the opening, but would not come out any further. Looking up at the young Maine Coon cat, the mouse’s nose twitched.

“Whatever it is cat, we didn’t do it,” the mouse said before Mittens could introduce herself.

“I’m not here about anything like that. I am Mittens, the new Protector for the neighborhood. I live in a house over the way,” she said by way of introduction. “Do you know what a Protector is?

“Yes, we’ve heard the legends,” the mouse squeaked. “Why are you here?”

“When I came to my new house, I brought a mouse friend with me. But he is old, and I cannot take care of him as well as one of his own kind. How would you like a loveable but unconventional mouse for your mischief?”

“Why did you bring him with you in the first place?” the mouse asked.

“Because he worked with my mother.  She was a Protector and my teacher,” Mittens explained. “When Mom and I got split up, we went to new homes, I couldn’t leave him behind.”

“You mean this mouse actually worked with a Protector?” the mouse asked, sounding impressed.

“He certainly did, in fact, he was one of my Mom’s best informers.”

“No kidding. My clan would love to meet him sometime,” the mouse replied, sounding impressed.

The next day, before he could do anything wrong, Mittens asked Cecil to accompany her on her patrol. She walked around the neighborhood with Cecil riding on her back. More than a few animals, both two and four-legged, did a double-take at the sight.

Eventually, Mittens stopped at the mouse den and meowed politely. The mouse who had greeted Mittens the day before came to the entrance.

“Hello cat,” the mouse squeaked. “Is this your friend?”

“He is indeed,” she replied. And then to her friend, “Cecil, these mice wanted to meet you because you worked with a Protector.”

She let Cecil down off her back and he walked up to the Mousehole. By this time, several young mice came out and formed a small circle around the old mouse and a cacophony of different mouse voices began asking questions all at the same time.

“How old are you?”

“You really worked with a Protector?”

“Do they really exist?”

“Did you do anything dangerous?”

Cecil looked around and replied, “I did work with a Protector. In fact, I was her partner,” Cecil boasted.

“My Protector couldn’t do anything without me,” he squeaked. This caused Mittens’ eyebrows to raise, but she just smiled and remained silent.

Mitten interrupted and suggested that Cecil stay here for a while and tell his stories while she finished her patrol.

A couple of hours later, Mittens came back to the mouse house to collect Cecil. He appeared at the door with more than a few mice trailing behind.

“Hi ya Mittens,” Cecil called.

“Are you ready to go home?” she asked. At that, the mice around Cecil got very long faces.

“To tell the truth, I think I am going to stay here for a while. These mice need me to teach them about the world and they like my stories. Besides, I have trained you enough, I think you are ready to be on your own,” the old mouse suggested.

“But if you need me, come on by,” he said swishing his tail. “I will be glad to give you a paw.”

Mittens made her face look sad, but inside she was smiling.

“Well, if you really think I am ready…” she said with a sigh. “But I insist on stopping by every once in a while, to make sure you’re okay or if I have ANY questions about being a Protector.”

“You’re a good egg Mittens. You’ll do fine.” And with that, Cecil let the little mice lead him back into the den.

Mitten continued to check on Cecil, bringing him and the mischief special treats once in a while. Some months later when stopped by, the senior mouse came and told her sadly that Cecil had passed away in the night, surrounded by his new mouse family.

She felt a pain of sadness at the news.  Because, despite everything, Cecil had been a good mouse.

She asked what they were going to do with him, and the senior mouse said Cecil was to be buried with full honors due a partner of a real Protector.

Mittens thanked the mice for their kindness and respect and turned to leave.  On her way home, she heard Atlas hoot at her from a tree.

“Well done Protector.  I’ve been watching you and I think you are going to work out just fine around here.”

“Thanks, I appreciate that,” she meowed, taking the compliment. “Can you do me a favor?”

“Don’t eat any of the mice in that particular mischief?” the owl wisely guessed.

“I would be grateful,” the Protector replied.

“Consider it done,” the great owl promised, and with a great sweep of his wings he took to the air.

The End.