When Pinky Mouse tries to discover the meaning of Christmas, he finds himself in danger from Tiger the cat and a mouse trap. Kids of all ages will enjoy this magical mouse story, first written for the author's children in 1971. This e-book contains the original sketches, plus newer computer-generated illustrations.
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A MOUSE TALE FOR CHRISTMAS
A Short Story
BONNIE TURNER
ISBN: 9781301883851
Copyright 2013 by Bonnie Turner
All rights reserved. This book is a work of fiction, no part of which may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without written permission from the author. Brief passages may be used in print media for review purposes.
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Table of Contents
Start of book
About Bonnie Turner
Other books by Bonnie Turner
Connect with Bonnie Turner
To my family with love
and to Dick, Jane, Sally
Spot and Puff:
characters in my first storybooks
who came to life
and taught me to read
and by reading
to love the written word.
Once upon a time, there lived a nice mouse family behind the attic wall in the Taylor house. There were Mama Mouse, Papa Mouse, and a wee baby mouse named Pinky.
One day while Papa was at work and Mama re-arranged the dust balls on the floor, Pinky spoke in the teeniest voice you’ve ever heard.
“Mama, what is Christmas?”
Mama Mouse shook her apron and looked her child squarely in his beady little eyes.
“Christmas?” Her voice was sweet and pleasant as she sat down and took Pinky upon her lap. “I don’t know what Christmas is, dear. Where did you hear about it?”
“I heard the downstairs children talking about it,” he squeaked. “They’re very excited! There’s a pretty tree with colored lights and balls on it, and shiny packages underneath.” Pinky’s eyes grew very big. “I wish I could play with those!”
Mama Mouse shook her head.
“No!” she said. “You must not touch them!”
“But why?”
“Because they belong to the children,” she replied.
Pinky thought for a minute. “Do you think Grandpa knows about Christmas? Old mice should know everything.”
“Why don’t you ask him the next time he visits?” she said.
Pinky jumped down and scurried away as his mother picked up her broom and busied herself once more with the dust.
Those children aren’t dropping as many crumbs as they used to, she thought. Times are hard!
Sometimes she wondered where their next meal was coming from.
Pinky sat down beside the mouse hole and thought about Christmas. He wondered about the tree, the lights, and the packages. Downstairs, all the way across the large room, there hung a big clock on the wall. Whenever the clock struck the hour, a small bird popped out of a tiny door and said, “Cuckoo-Cuckoo!”
Sometimes Pinky visited the clock and talked to the Cuckoo bird. And sometimes the bird answered him. But all it said was “Cuckoo-Cuckoo!”
“I wonder if the cuckoo bird can tell me about Christmas,” he said aloud.
Now, Pinky’s mama had told him many times never to go downstairs alone because of Tiger the cat. Tiger was a big yellow and black tomcat who ate mice!
But, thought Pinky, Mama is busy and Papa’s gone. I have nothing to do, and I want to find out what Christmas is. Maybe if I’m very careful ...
With that, he left his home through the mouse hole and peered down the steep stairs at the end of the hall. The coast was clear. The cat was nowhere to be seen, but he saw the big clock on the wall by the fireplace.
Can I make it?
Pinky jumped down each step and soon found himself in the middle of the room. Straight to the clock he ran. Grabbing one of the chains hanging from the clock, he scrambled to the top, where he rested a moment. He felt very smug for being so daring. But when the little mouse looked down to the floor, his eyes grew big with alarm.
Below him on the floor was the meanest-looking cat he’d ever seen! It was TIGER!
Pinky’s heart went thumpity-bumpity-bump. He had never been this close to the cat before, and he was terrified!
I’ve got to stay calm, he thought. Maybe if I try to be friendly ... maybe he really isn’t mean.
“H-hello, T-Tiger.”
He waved to the cat.
“Growl!” roared Tiger, in his meanest cat meow. “I see a mouse! I want to eat a mouse!”
Tiger licked his whiskers and bared his sharp, shiny teeth. He looked meaner than ever.
Pinky began shaking. He shook so hard that he almost fell from his high perch on the clock.
I must be brave!
“M-Mister T-Tiger,” he said in his sweetest voice. “D-do you know what Christmas is?”
The cat scowled. He sat down and licked his front feet. He spread out his sharp claws and showed Pinky his fangs.
“Sure, I do,” he boasted.
“Then-then won’t you please tell me?” Pinky was afraid of Tiger, but he did not want Tiger to know that. He knew the big cat could eat him in one bite!
Tiger looked up at Pinky and licked his whiskers.
“What will you give me if I tell you about Christmas?”
Poor Pinky! He didn’t know if he could trust that cat or not!
“I-I could give you a Christmas present,” Pinky said. He had no idea what a Christmas present was, but it was worth a try.
Tiger licked his whiskers again and said, “Christmas is when a big cat in a red fur coat brings all the other cats mice to eat! I love to eat mice. I see a mouse NOW, and when he comes down ... I’m going to eat him!”
Tiger spread his sharp claws again and jumped up at the clock. He jumped again and again, but the clock was too high and he always missed.
Pinky leaned against the wall to keep out of Tiger’s reach.
“I can see now that cats are not friendly to mice!” His voice was squeakier than ever. “Go away, you bad cat!”
Just as Tiger was about to jump again, the little door on the face of the clock opened, and out popped the cuckoo bird.
“Cuckoo!” chirped the bird. “Cuckoo, Cuckoo, Cuckoo, Cuckoo!” Five Cuckoos altogether.
Off darted the cat, forgetting all about Pinky. The bird had told him it was time for supper.
“Wow!” Pinky said. “That was close!”
He began to relax. He laughed, and leaned over the side of the clock. He looked for the bird, but could not see it. The Cuckoo bird had gone back inside until six o’clock. Pinky very carefully opened the small door and poked his nose inside.
“Thank you!” he whispered. “You saved my life, little Cuckoo bird.”
The bird replied, “Cuckoo!”
Suddenly, Pinky remember why he had come to the clock in the first place.
“Can you tell me what Christmas is?”
“Cuckoo-Cuckoo!”
“I said, can you ...” Pinky flipped his long tail and wiggled his whiskers. “Oh, never mind.” And he closed the door quietly.
Pinky looked all around the room, but
the cat was nowhere in sight.
“I’d better go home,” he said. “But this time, I’ll be more careful! No running blindly into the middle of the room.”
He now knew that he must travel as his wise mother had taught him. He leaped down from the clock and ran swiftly along the wall until he came to a chair. He hid behind the chair for a moment, checking the room. But there was still no cat.
After looking all around, he decided it was safe to go on again. This time he made a quick dash along the wall and hid behind the bookcase. In his mind, he heard his mother’s warning:
“Always stay beside the wall. Keep behind the furniture and stay in dark places.”
Pinky kept going the way his mother had said. He even remembered where the big, ugly mousetrap was and went cautiously around it. He did not want his tail caught in that! The chunk of cheese on the trap smelled delicious, but it would be the end of him if he tried to pull it off. He might be able to run from a cat, but he could not outrun a mousetrap!
Pinky found his family already eating when he came home. He thought he would be in trouble for going out alone. But nobody said a word when he went over to his food. On his plate was a crumb of hard toast, a chunk of cheddar cheese, and one green pea. But he was not hungry.
Suddenly, Pinky began to cry. Papa Mouse looked at him. Mama Mouse looked at him, too.
“What is the matter?” asked his father.
“Why are you crying?” his mother said.
Pinky sniffed and wiped his eyes. He looked sadly at Papa Mouse.
“No one could tell me about Christmas!” he said. “The mean cat almost ate me, and the bird in the clock only said “Cuckoo-Cuckoo. The big mousetrap in the corner wanted me to steal its cheese!”
Papa wiggled his whiskers and flipped his long tail.
“You had quite an adventure today, Pinky! If you’ll promise not to run away again, I might have a surprise for you tonight.” Papa turned to Mama Mouse and winked at her. She nodded her head and smiled.
“Oh!” cried Pinky. “I love surprises!” And with that, he jumped down and ran to his mother. Laying his head in her lap, he said softly, “I’m sorry, Mama. I won’t go out alone till I’m all grown up.”
Now Pinky was hungry, so he gnawed his toast, took a few nibbles of cheese, and ate the whole pea.
When it began to grow dark, Papa Mouse took his family aside.
“Tonight we’re going to find out what Christmas is—together. But we’ll have to be quite and keep out of sight. And we must avoid mousetraps on the way.”
When everyone was ready, Papa took them down the stairs and into the big room, now blazing with beautiful lights. As he led them to the brightly decorated tree in the corner, Pinky heard soft music playing “Silent Night. Holy Night.” He didn’t know what that meant, but it made him excited and happy. He tried to be as quiet as a ... mouse.
The mice found a pile of gifts on the floor under the tree, and that’s where they hid ... and watched ... and waited.
Soon after the mice were settled, Mrs. Taylor entered the room with two small children. The little ones snuggled closely as she sat on the sofa and read to them from a black book.
Pinky listened, and he heard the story of Christmas for the first time. He learned about a baby in a manger. He learned about a bright star that guided three wise men who brought the baby gifts. Then he learned about the shepherds and the angel’s message to them. He had never heard such a tender story. It made him feel warm and happy inside.
The little mouse was tired and sleepy when the family returned to the attic, and after saying good-night and giving kisses all around, off he scampered to his bed in a large fur hat. And while he slept, he dreamed of candy canes, twinkling stars, and gingerbread cookies.
After he was sure Pinky was fast asleep, Papa Mouse said to Mama, “I have another surprise!”
He brought in a small pine branch with a piece of tinsel and a glass ball hanging from it, and placed it in a corner of their attic.
“How lovely!” said Mama Mouse “I have a surprise, too. I found it this morning while looking for crumbs. It must have rolled through that mouse hole in the wall ... the one where the cat comes to watch us.”
She showed him a piece of Christmas candy wrapped in a scrap of bright paper, and she laid her present under their Christmas tree.
The last thing Papa Mouse did before going to bed, was to write something on a small piece of cardboard. He placed it under the tree, then put his arms around Mama Mouse, admiring his handiwork. The card read: FOR PINKY
When Pinky awoke the next morning, he rubbed his eyes, not believing what he saw.
“A Christmas tree!” he shouted. “Christmas came when I was sleeping!”
Just then, Grandma and Grandpa Mouse arrived all dressed up in their Sunday best.
“Grandpa! Grandma!” Pinky shouted. “Look! Christmas came!”
“Oh my, isn’t it wonderful?” said Grandma Mouse.
Grandpa said to Papa and Mama Mouse, “Merry Christmas, Daughter! Merry Christmas, Son!”
He gave Pinky a toy mouse that looked just like him, and a brand new ball, saying, “Merry Christmas to you, Grandson!”
“Holiday greetings all around!” Pinky’s mother said. “Merry Christmas to you, Grandpa and Grandma Mouse! Thank you for coming. I have cheese and cracker crumbs if you’ll stay for dinner.”
“Yum, cheese and crackers will suit me fine!” Grandma said.
The mice grandparents spread other gifts under the tree as carols from the rooms below filled the air. The clock on the downstairs wall cuckooed the hour ... and even the cat sneaked in to play.
“This is a magical day!” Pinky exclaimed. “It’s the most wonderful day of the year!”
~ THE END ~
Below is the original art for this story. New illustrations for this edition were created with a computer graphics program.
Original Art, 1971
Copyright by Bonnie L. Turner
Other books by Bonnie Turner
The Haunted Igloo
For someone afraid of the dark, living in the Arctic is a severe test of courage. Ten-year-old Jean-Paul struggles to hide his fear and adjust to life in the NWT, where he is taunted by a group of Inuit boys because of his lameness caused by a birth defect. Forced imprisonment in a "haunted" igloo proves to be one of the most severe challenges to face Jean-Paul in the harsh Arctic environment. (8-12)
Spirit Lights
(Sequel to The Haunted Igloo)
A coming-of-age novel for fans of Gary Paulsen, Scott O'Dell & Jack London, in which a young French boy learns to love and let go. Returning to the Arctic after a two-year absence, 12-year-old Jean-Paul has overcome his fear of the dark, but discovers his best Inuit friend is terrified of the Northern Lights. Polar bears, huskies, auroras that speak--and danger in the Arctic. (Ages 12 & up)
Down the Memory Hole
Summer vacation sucks when 12-year-old Buzz shares his room with a grandpa who has Alzheimer’s disease and his parents forbid him to associate with his best friend. The idea of giving up Mitch is bad enough. But how can he relate to an old man who wears adult diapers and thinks dog biscuits are people cookies? Someone who could die in the night and scare Buzz right out of puberty! (Ages 12 & up)
Footprints in Time: A Walk in Sacajawea’s Moccasins
In 1805, a young Shoshone woman named Sacajawea joined the Lewis and Clark expedition as an interpreter, and with a papoose on her back helped explore America's northwest while searching for a route to the Pacific Ocean. This time-honored true story of the hardships of the expedition, in particular that of Sacajawea and her baby, Jean-Baptist (Pomp), is retold for young readers. (Ages 8-12)
Bridges Ahead
From stepping stones in a creek bed to mighty steel and concrete structures, bridges have from ancient times helped people solve transportation problems. Bridges Ahead is a book for curious readers who wonder how bridges are made and what they are made of. The book conta
ins images of different types of bridges. (Ages 8-12)
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About Bonnie Turner
Bonnie Turner has been writing since high school. Her first book, The Haunted Igloo, was published in 1991 by Houghton Mifflin Company (Boston). Turner was born in Missouri on Halloween and now lives near Green Bay, Wisconsin. She has five grown children, eight grandchildren, and one great-grandson. Keeping her company as she writes—and meddling with things on Turner’s desk—is a feisty tortoiseshell cat named Jazzbaby. The cat provides enough entertainment to keep the author supplied with writing material for many years. Jazzy loves to help wash the dishes ... and a mouse would not dare enter the house.
Connect with Bonnie Turner
Friend me on Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/bonnie.turner.5
Follow me on Twitter: @BonnieTurner9
Visit my web page: https://my.athenet.net/~aurorawolf
HAPPY HOLIDAYS!