Christopher Mouse: Chapters 8–11

My sense of tranquility did not last long. In a few seconds I saw the cat directly below me, staring up at the cage.

Hearing a faint noise, I turned to find him poised on top of Aubrey’s desk.

I’ll pretend to let you escape, and you’ll dash here and there in a desperate effort to elude me.

He paced in front of the cage while I continued to shrink away. He tested the side, the top, the front. Each time, to my relief, the bars remained unyielding.

He settled on his haunches and thought some more.

Imperceptibly at first, the cage began to slide across the table.

Possibly the force of the fall would loosen some of the bars so that he would be able to pry them apart—far enough apart to reach inside and seize me.

The floor teetered and swayed under my feet until, with a sickening lurch, over I went.

At the same instant, there was a terrific crash, and the dishes broke, cascading dirty water and turtle food across the carpet.

His next words dispelled the illusion.

At these words—callous as they were—a vast weight seemed to lift from my heart. Soon I was to be traded or sold.

What difference did it make if the box of kitchen matches was dark, cramped, and poorly ventilated?

A brief farewell inside, and then adieu forever to Aubrey Sharpe III!

He refused to exhibit me, but at each recess he threw out tantalizing hints to his classmates about the “fabulous bargain” concealed in his desk drawer.

“I’d like to stuff a white mouse with my new taxidermy set. Last week I stuffed a dead owl and he came out fine. Of course I’d have to kill this one first, but I don’t guess that would be any trouble. I could use an anesthetic, or poison. What do you say, Aubrey? I’m looking for another specimen.”

“Sell my white mouse to someone who plans to kill and stuff him? I may need money pretty badly, but I don’t see how I could sell him to you at any price.”
Unabashed, the Youthful Taxidermist offered a dollar seventy-five.

Without a qualm, he was going to place me in the hands of a boy who would butcher me!

“Well, at least let me see if he’s still in good condition, Aubrey. I need a perfect specimen. If he’s gotten damaged since yesterday, the deal’s off.”

The threat flustered Aubrey. He slipped the box hastily into his pocket—but this time he failed to shut it tight.

As the woman droned on, they giggled and called each other names too vile to repeat.

A single misstep would cause me to fall, and the commotion would foil my escape.

I wasn’t going to be sold to the Youthful Taxidermist! I wasn’t going to join the stuffed owl on the bookcase!

I wondered how long it might suit me to remain on my own. Suppose food was plentiful, and I found no difficulty establishing a snug nest in some secluded corner of the museum.

Despite the gloom I set off with a jaunty stride.

I paused from time to time to look at various paintings in their gilt frames and pieces of sculpture on their pedestals.

I ran ahead until I came to a hallway, where I saw a window with a shaft of moonlight pouring through it.

I was in desperate straits—out in the open with no hole to race to, no crack into which I could dive.

Instead of dashing away in panic, I coughed politely and said in my suavest voice, “Look, friend cat, before you finish me off—and I know you can do it whenever you please—why not consider a business proposition?”

He didn’t answer—didn’t even nod his head. I found this disconcerting.

My eloquence had failed.

My scheme had been futile.

According to his placard, he was an ancient Egyptian cat, a prize museum statue—and more than two thousand years old.

I had grown accustomed to the darkness and no longer felt apprehensive on that account. I feared two other possibilities: a live cat might be somewhere in the museum, or I might stumble into one of the guards.

The stone and concrete floors were bad enough; the museum was also drafty. Every now and then I ran into a gale that seemed to blow out of nowhere; it swirled along the hall for a few seconds and then abruptly died away, leaving my teeth chattering and my long, furless tail as chilled as an icicle.

Suddenly a glorious scent tickled my nose. It was the rich, redolent aroma of roasted peanuts!