August 18, 2015

We enjoyed good weather on our 4-day trip. All but Saturday afternoon that is. Mid-afternoon brought menacing dark skies and flashes of lightening punctuated by deep grumbles of thunder. It didn’t hinder the afternoon service, mind you, but there was a noticeable stir—especially among those sitting near the big open doors, as the lightening bolts danced nearby.

At one resounding clap of thunder a worried, whiskered face appeared, wide-eyed and anxious, at the corner of my tote bag. I smiled reassuringly, but shook my head, silently conveying that he should remain calm and not bolt from his safe-at-last spot.

Just as the service ended, the rain began to roar, pelting everything in sight. Some folks braved the trip from meeting room to dining areas by doubling up under umbrellas. We, however, left our three—yes, three umbrellas in the car. Wonderful help they were there! So we waited.

After a time, the storm abated and we twinkle-toed our way through the wet grass en route to the car. “Hang on tight, Sir Fivel”… I called quietly as I sprinted, knowing I was jouncing the jollies right out of the poor little guy.

In the car, I set the tote bag on the floor by my feet as my daughter proceded to drive us back to the motel. Expecting our little friend to climb out quickly once we were alone, I was troubled when he didn’t.

“Sir Fivel…?” What if he’d fallen out of the tote-bag during our daring dash! I began gingerly removing things one-by-one.

“You in there, my hapless friend?” I cajoled worriedly. No answer. “Ohhh no!” I whined quietly. “What’ll we do if he fell out and he’s back there in that field somewhere…”

Just then a rumpled, frazzled, whiskered mouse-gentleman, climbed out from the pocket of my sweater buried deep in bottom of the bag.

“Ma’am?” he rasped “…is it safe to come out now?”

“Yes, Sir Fivel… you’re safe now. “We’re in the car riding back to the motel. You can stay there with us for the night and we’ll take you home tomorrow.”
Relief washed over him. He climbed the rest of the way out, limping slightly as he settled himself there in the cup-holder. He adjusted his twisted knickers, straightened his vest with purpose, then carefully spit-groomed his bedraggled whiskers and then, as though he’d suddenly remembered his manners, he turned to me.

“Thank you, Ma’am. Thank you for saving my life. I have a family, you know… well, of course you know, but oh dear…” he couldn’t continue. After rubbing his eyes furiously, he went back to grooming his whiskers before adding, “Fivelina and the children must be so worried…” Tears sparkled in his eyes.

Now, mind you, even respectable mouse-gentlemen don’t have cell phones or any phones for that matter. We take a lot for granted, don’t we?

“Try not to fret now…” I reassured. “Fivelina has been through hard times before, she’ll get past this one too… and after all, you are safe now, and you’ll be going home tomorrow. By the way, do you want to tell me how you got into this predicament?” I queried.
“Ohhh Ma’am… it’s very complicated. I’m so embarrassed. I’m not sure how to say it…”
More tomorrow…