Ferdinand Archibald O’Cleirigh was an average mouse. He loved nothing more than to scurry to and fro from his little hole in the baseboard. Ferdinand’s hole was a museum of sorts, with newspaper clippings scattered and matted into a nest in a corner. Some doomed dice, spools of scarlet and cadmium thread, and rusted bottle caps were lined up, stacked haphazardly against the back of the wall. 

His prized possessions, though, were kept closer to the nest, neater than the other things: a shiny black button, copper coin, and a chip of fine china, hand-painted with a pink garden flower.

The rest of his hole stored his food supply of an apple core, cracker crumbs, and a sliver of swiss cheese the Little One had given him with bright, watery eyes. It was snug but isn’t that how a home ought to be. 

A sleek brown cat had claimed the same house as its own, basking by the window, its amber eyes, reflecting the autumn sun, surveyed its domain. It was a lazy cat with buttermilk dripping from its jowls until a little flick of tan seen from the peripheral caught its attention. Ferdinand led with whiskers into the fresh world of a home before dawn and the chase had begun. 

Ferdinand, somewhat wickedly, found himself to enjoy teasing the cat, picking his way about the hardwood floss, then bursting away moments before the cat had a taste of his tail. Unfortunately, this joy never lasted. The cat eventually found itself thoroughly annoyed with Ferdinand’s game and felt the need each morning to wake the Older Ones, who pretended to hate Ferdinand the pest. 

He could see past their facade, however, since he often knew them to set out little bits of food on thin pieces of wood and coiled wire special for him. And when the cat failed to provide the excitement a young mouse craved, the Little One would squeal or the Older Ones chased him with an old broom. 

All at once, the skyline was watercolored with orange fire, shimmering down to grey violet, and finally, pinpricks revealed themselves against the black night’s cloth. Ferdinand found himself curled up inside the baseboards again, and took his time to cherish and hold each of his treasures to his chest. Goodnight shiny black button.

Goodnight copper coin.

And finally, with a dreary sigh, goodnight to the chip of fine china and the pink garden flower.