Believe it or not stories
How Mouse learnt to squeak - sometimes its dangerous to shout
As you probably know cats and mice have never got on and that's the way it's always been. Mice have learnt to creep around silently to avoid disturbing cats. And cats have learnt to ignore the slightest squeak. But did you know that Mice didn't always squeak. Long ago they used to screech a bit like a parrot but louder. Let me tell you the story of one little mouse with an extra loud screech who very nearly landed up as the cat’s dinner.
According to Marmaduke, the cushion on Mrs Bramble’s farmhouse kitchen chair was the best spot in the house for sunbathing. Every afternoon His Royal Marmaladeness could be found curled up there fast asleep. It was a time when the Mouse family could tiptoe out, holding their breath and hunt for cheese and bread-crumbs, certain that they’d be safe from his sharp teeth and cruel claws.
On this particular afternoon Mrs Bramble was away in the cow shed milking Buttercup. All was peaceful as Mozo peeped out from the mouse hole in the skirting board. He quivered with delight when he saw the pantry door ajar for he knew there was an abundance of food in there for hungry little mice.
'HE'S ASLEEP. LET'S GO.' His shrill voice echoed around the kitchen and Marmaduke put his paws over his ears. You see Mozo hadn't learnt to keep quiet like all the other mice which was a nuisance because when he got excited he was a bit like that boy who shouts out in class instead of putting up his hand or that girl who screams when she’s being chased in the playground. Yes, I’m afraid Mozo was a very excited little mouse. He didn’t mean to be so loud. He was just a little mouse with a VERY LOUD voice.
It was OK when he and the other young mice wanted to tease Marmaduke. They’d stand outside the mouse hole pulling rude faces and screeching rude things at Marmaduke, which made him very angry indeed. Then they’d turn and run into their hole laughing and jeering when he tried to catch them. But this was serious stuff. The family were running out of crumbs. If they didn’t find some more soon they’d all starve.
‘Just as I’m having a nice snooze that meddlesome young whippersnapper comes and wakes me up.’ grumbled Marmaduke. ‘Why can’t he be quiet like the rest of ‘em?’. He was really too tired to chase them and opened one eye, ready to pounce if the mice so much as ventured out of their hole. That was the trouble with mice. Give ‘em a crumb and they’d take the whole loaf. And Mrs Bramble wouldn’t be please if that happened so he needed to show them who’s boss whether he liked it or not.
'Sh!' Mozo’s big brother Mikey put his finger to his lips. But it was too late. Marmaduke had already leapt off the chair and his nose was pressed up against the hole to show he meant business.
'Now see what you've done' squealed Mikey
‘Come little one.' purred Marmaduke licking his lips. ' Let me show you where Mrs Bramble keeps her freshest cheese. I watched her churn it in the dairy only this morning.'
Mikey dragged his little brother away from the opening..
'Thanks but no thanks' he squawked . Marmaduke sighed and returned to his spot in the sun. No mouse dinner for him today.
Mozo sat and thought about that fresh cheese straight from the dairy and his little tummy rumbled with excitement. Once Mikey was busy playing snakes and ladders with his cousin Scurry he couldn't resist creeping out of the hole and going on a cheese hunt whilst Marmaduke was still asleep. Managing to keep quiet he scuttled under the kitchen chair and made for the pantry where he knew Mrs Bramble kept her home made jams and bottled fruit. Marmaduke opened one eye but didn’t move. As long as they were quiet he could ignore them.
The door was ajar so Mozo scampered inside. On a slab he could see a huge ring of crumbly white cheese as tall as 10 mice. He sniffed. It smelt delicious. Shrieking with excitement he forgot all about Marmaduke.
'MIKEY COME QUICK. I'VE FOUND THE CHEESE,' he squealed. Then he put his paws over his mouth when he realised what he'd done. There at the door stood Marmaduke ready to spring. He cowered back against the wall.
'MIKEY!' He screeched as Marmaduke crept closer ready to strike with his deadly claws.
Back in the mouse hole Mikey heard his brother’s frantic call. He rounded up the rest of the Mouse family and marched them out of the hole, Grey and Whiskers, Pitter and Patter, Scurry and Scamper. They swarmed across the kitchen floor screeching for all they were worth surrounding Marmaduke, pulling faces and shouting rude names. They climbed on his back and nibbled his ears. They tickled his nose making him sneeze, ‘ATCHOO’ and yanked clumps of orange fur out of his chest, ‘OUCH!’ until he didn't know which way to turn.
In the meantime Mrs Bramble had finished milking Buttercup and returned to the kitchen with a jug of milk. ‘EEEEEEEK,’ she dropped the milk all over Marmaduke then grabbed a broom and began to whack the offending mice hitting him over the head in the process. Poor Marmaduke. He sat in a pool of milk dazed with disbelief.
‘MOZO! GET BACK HOME QUICK!' Mikey dragged his quivering brother past the bewildered cat and out of the pantry to the safety of the mouse hole. Mozo was so frightened that he lost his screech and all he could do was squeak.
Believe it or not, from that day on Mozo and all those that followed had a quiet little squeak instead of a screech, which suited Marmaduke perfectly. Now he could sleep peacefully and pretend he hadn’t heard them.
THE END
How Cat got his whiskers
Tibbles was a handsome kitten, with thick black fur and a snowy white patch on each cheek where his whiskers grew stiff and strong. He was the image of his grandfather Morfudd. Right from being a tiny baby his mother had told him stories of how long, long ago, when the world was simply a smudge on the universe and dogs ruled the planet, cats had no whiskers. They just had little stubbles hidden by their thick fur. They were constantly getting stuck in tight places with no means of judging their width, until, that is, his great, great, great grandfather Morfudd came on the scene. Morfudd was a great leader who led his Catforce in vicious battles against the Doggands, a group of ferocious corgis that lived in the wilds of the Welsh hills.
‘These vicious terrorists,’ said his mother ‘would come down in the dead of night to kill and plunder the cat settlements in the valleys of Snowdonia. They would sneak into a village when all was quiet and scare the cats from their sleep, spreading terror and devastation with their growling and howling, yapping and snapping. Terrified mothers would round up their kittens and find a safe place to hide whilst the tom cats did their best to fend off the marauders.
‘So what happened Mum?’ said Tibbles who had heard the story dozens of times already.
‘Well lots of cats died because they had no leader to organise them,’ said his mother, ‘so one day some of the older tom cats got together and decided they must choose a leader; one who was strong and fearless, and capable of commanding a huge army; one who was respected throughout the valley. They looked around the circle and everyone nodded when their eyes fell upon Morfudd.. Whilst he'd survived many savage battles over many seasons he still possessed the fire of youth. He was the obvious choice. So they elected him to organise a Catforce which could be on standby for any Doggand emergency.’
Tibbles was mesmerised. ‘Go on Mum. Tell me more?’
‘Well, General Morfudd rounded up all the young toms in his village and sent them out to recruit soldiers from the other villages in the valley. There was only one qualification, they had to be young and fearless. Then he called them all together and addressed them from upon a rock. There were thousands of young cats all looking up at him just waiting for him to tell them what to do: tabbies; marmalades; tortoiseshells; Persians; Siamese; every colour you can think of. First Morfudd organised them into small bands whose job it was to patrol their neighbourhoods at night to keep an eye out for any disturbance. These bands in turn formed regiments. If there was any suspicion that corgis were about to strike they would send out the most bloodcurdling yowl to warn the other cats to take cover. And then the Catforce would quietly assemble by the old oak at the foot of the hills, ready to fight back the Doggands.’
‘Did it work?’ asked Tibbles. ‘Did they fight off the Doggands?’
‘Oh yes, but not before there’d been some terrible battles and lots of our soldiers were wounded. So Morfudd set up a field hospital in the shelter of the woods where the wounded could be taken to be tended. His wife, your grandmother Blodwen, was one of the very first cat nurses, and cats still talk today about how she padded amongst the wounded gently purring and licking clean their wounds.’
‘Tell me the story of how Morfudd was caught by the corgis.’ Tibbles snuggled down next to his mum for his bedtime story.
‘Well, as you know, long ago cats didn’t have whiskers like we have today, and it was very difficult to judge how wide a hole was. Some cats got stuck in holes and crevices and had to be dragged out by the tail, which wasn’t very dignified and could be quite painful. It happened to your grandfather a few times as a young tom I can tell you. One day Morfudd had just jumped down from a tree where he had been on look-out duty when two vicious corgis bounded out from nowhere and stood baring their teeth, on either side of him.’ Tibbles put his tiny paws over his eyes in horror. His mother licked his nose and carried on with her story. ‘Morfudd extended his powerful claws ready to fight but the corgis were too quick and they leapt forward, each snapping their teeth into the thick white fur of Morfudd’s cheeks. He pulled and pulled to get free but neither assailant would let go. The more he pulled, the more they pulled too until, just before he thought he was going to lose his lovely white cheeks, backup arrived in the form of two of his bravest warriors who flew onto the backs of the corgis scratching and tearing until they were forced to let go and skulk back into the hills. Morfudd’s cheeks were really sore so he padded to a nearby stream and bathed them in the cool water, which was a brave thing to do because, as you know, cats don’t like water very much. Whilst he was there he caught sight of his reflection in the water. It looked like him but there was something not quite right. Then he realised what it was. Sticking out from his swollen cheeks there were long white bristles which hadn’t been there before. No wonder his cheeks were sore. Those villains had pulled his stubbles right out along with big tufts of his beautiful fur and he now had long bristles which quite disfigured his handsome face.’
His mother paused to lick Tibbles’s whiskers. ‘But your whiskers are very handsome my baby,’ she assured him before carrying on with her story.
‘Some days later Morfudd was once again being chased by a band of Doggands in the hills above his village and had cause to escape into a crevice in the rocks. As he shot into the darkness he felt the sensitive ends of his new bristles brushing the sides of the rock. That’s handy he thought. He whisked his head from side to side and felt safe in the knowledge that he had enough room to turn around and get out again when the coast was clear. No more being dragged out by the tail by laughing kittens, or, heaven forbid, corgi renegades.
At that time Morfudd was the only cat with the new whiskers and he wore them as a badge of honour to display his courage and leadership. And ever since then all cats have been blessed with a set of sensitive whiskers to warn them of the dangers of confined spaces.’
Tibbles’s mother looked down lovingly at her son who was now fast asleep in the crook of her arm dreaming of adventures in narrow places and battles with aggressive canines. She licked his tiny black face with its chubby white cheeks and handsome whiskers. ‘And you my dear child,’ she said softly, ‘are the cat’s whiskers, strong and brave like your great, great, great grandfather Morfudd before you.’ She laid her head next to his, closed her eyes and purred contentedly.
THE END
How Cathy Caterpillar learnt to fly
never give up on your dreams
Cathy was curled up asleep inside her silken cocoon. 'Time to wake up Cathy' called Spring. 'Time to go to school.'
Cathy stretched her six stubby legs and uncurled her little fat body. 'What's school?' She asked rubbing the sleep from her eyes feeling Spring's warm smile on her back.
'It's where you will learn to fly like a bird,' explained Spring.
But I have no wings and I'm not a bird,' cried Cathy. 'I'm a caterpillar. All I have are these six stubby legs.'
'Just you wait and see. Come on. Time to go,' insisted Spring.
Cathy followed Spring to a place in the heart of the forest where an owl was perched on a low branch. Lots of young insects looked up at him waiting for him to speak. Cathy sat down with the rest of them feeling very out of place. They all had 6 legs like her but they weren't short and stubby. They also had something else she didn't have, something furled tightly on their backs. Cathy didn't know what it was but she had a feeling they might be something to do with flying.
'Good morning class,' twittered Owl. 'Today I'm going to teach you how to fly. First I want you all to stand and reach as high as you can.'
Cathy reached as high as she could.
That's right. Reach for the sky. Come on Cathy you can do better than that,' Cathy stood on the tips of her stubby little toes but she couldn't reach as high as the others
'Now,' went on owl,' jump as high as you can and spread your wings like this'
Owl spread out his huge wings and almost fell off his perch.
Cathy wanted to giggle but Owl looked at her so sternly that she didn't dare.
She looked around to see all her classmates fluttering happily above her head whilst she remained firmly stuck on the ground.
Owl squinted at her from behind his bifocals 'Go home and practise,' he tweeted, 'and come back when you can do it'
She burst into tears and ran back home. She felt like a failure. 'You see,' she shouted at Spring, 'I told you I couldn't do it'
'Never give up,' urged Spring. 'Just keep practising.'
Cathy practised for days but no matter how high she jumped she couldn't fly. In the end she gave up and sank down miserably onto a cabbage leaf.
'Why are you so sad,' came a silvery voice from above. She stopped crying and looked up at a beautiful angel with shimmering butterfly wings.
'Don't look so scared,' she whispered. I'm your very own guardian angel and I'm here to take care of you. I can grant you one wish that will last till the end of time so what will it be?'
Cathy didn't need to think. She knew exactly what she wanted. ' I want to fly like a bird,' she whispered breathlessly.
'Then fly you will'. The angel smiled and fluttered away into the sunshine. Cathy tried again. She jumped as high as she could. But she still couldn't fly.
That night she lay down feeling completely let down by her guardian angel. She would never fly. How could she fly without wings?
The following morning she awoke feeling strangely lighter. She stretched and heard a ripping sound. Oh my goodness her skin was splitting. She was going to die.
She sat up and realised her skin was lying shrivelled up around her and her legs were no longer thick and stubby. They were long and slim. But best of all, she had wings - beautiful big red sparkling wings. She stretched again and felt herself lifting effortlessly off the lettuce leaf. She was flying. She was free.
So you see it can happen if we don't give up on our dreams.
THE END
never give up on your dreams
Cathy was curled up asleep inside her silken cocoon. 'Time to wake up Cathy' called Spring. 'Time to go to school.'
Cathy stretched her six stubby legs and uncurled her little fat body. 'What's school?' She asked rubbing the sleep from her eyes feeling Spring's warm smile on her back.
'It's where you will learn to fly like a bird,' explained Spring.
But I have no wings and I'm not a bird,' cried Cathy. 'I'm a caterpillar. All I have are these six stubby legs.'
'Just you wait and see. Come on. Time to go,' insisted Spring.
Cathy followed Spring to a place in the heart of the forest where an owl was perched on a low branch. Lots of young insects looked up at him waiting for him to speak. Cathy sat down with the rest of them feeling very out of place. They all had 6 legs like her but they weren't short and stubby. They also had something else she didn't have, something furled tightly on their backs. Cathy didn't know what it was but she had a feeling they might be something to do with flying.
'Good morning class,' twittered Owl. 'Today I'm going to teach you how to fly. First I want you all to stand and reach as high as you can.'
Cathy reached as high as she could.
That's right. Reach for the sky. Come on Cathy you can do better than that,' Cathy stood on the tips of her stubby little toes but she couldn't reach as high as the others
'Now,' went on owl,' jump as high as you can and spread your wings like this'
Owl spread out his huge wings and almost fell off his perch.
Cathy wanted to giggle but Owl looked at her so sternly that she didn't dare.
She looked around to see all her classmates fluttering happily above her head whilst she remained firmly stuck on the ground.
Owl squinted at her from behind his bifocals 'Go home and practise,' he tweeted, 'and come back when you can do it'
She burst into tears and ran back home. She felt like a failure. 'You see,' she shouted at Spring, 'I told you I couldn't do it'
'Never give up,' urged Spring. 'Just keep practising.'
Cathy practised for days but no matter how high she jumped she couldn't fly. In the end she gave up and sank down miserably onto a cabbage leaf.
'Why are you so sad,' came a silvery voice from above. She stopped crying and looked up at a beautiful angel with shimmering butterfly wings.
'Don't look so scared,' she whispered. I'm your very own guardian angel and I'm here to take care of you. I can grant you one wish that will last till the end of time so what will it be?'
Cathy didn't need to think. She knew exactly what she wanted. ' I want to fly like a bird,' she whispered breathlessly.
'Then fly you will'. The angel smiled and fluttered away into the sunshine. Cathy tried again. She jumped as high as she could. But she still couldn't fly.
That night she lay down feeling completely let down by her guardian angel. She would never fly. How could she fly without wings?
The following morning she awoke feeling strangely lighter. She stretched and heard a ripping sound. Oh my goodness her skin was splitting. She was going to die.
She sat up and realised her skin was lying shrivelled up around her and her legs were no longer thick and stubby. They were long and slim. But best of all, she had wings - beautiful big red sparkling wings. She stretched again and felt herself lifting effortlessly off the lettuce leaf. She was flying. She was free.
So you see it can happen if we don't give up on our dreams.
THE END