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She began stroking the fur on the back of my neck with one finger. ‘We have accomplished great feats today,’ she said.
‘It's been terrific,’ I said. ‘Absolutely terrific.’
The Heart of a Mouse
It was lovely to be back in Norway once again in my grandmother's fine old house. But now that I was so small, everything looked different and it took me quite a while to find my way around. Mine was a world of carpets and table-legs and chair-legs and the little crannies behind large pieces of furniture. A closed door could not be opened and nothing could be reached that was on a table.
But after a few days, my grandmother began to invent gadgets for me in order to make life a bit easier. She got a carpenter to put together a number of slim tall stepladders and she placed one of these against each table in the house so that I could climb up whenever I wanted to. She herself invented a wonderful door-opening device made out of wires and springs and pulleys, with heavy weights dangling on cords, and soon every door in the house had a door-opener on it. All I had to do was to press my front paws on to a tiny wooden platform and hey presto, a spring would stretch and a weight would drop and the door would swing open.
Next, she rigged up an equally ingenious system whereby I could switch on the light whenever I entered a room at night. I cannot explain how it worked because I know nothing about electricity, but there was a little button let into the floor near the door in every room in the house, and when I pressed the button gently with one paw, the light would come on. When I pressed it a second time, the light would go off again.
My grandmother made me a tiny toothbrush, using a matchstick for the handle, and into this she stuck little bits of bristle that she had snipped off one of her hair-brushes. ‘You must not get any holes in your teeth,’ she said. ‘I can't take a mouse to a dentist! He'd think I was crazy!’
‘It's funny,’ I said, ‘but ever since I became a mouse I've hated the taste of sweets and chocolate. So I don't think I'll get any holes.’
‘You are still going to brush your teeth after every meal,’ my grandmother said. And I did.
For a bath-tub she gave me a silver sugar-basin, and I bathed in it every night before going to bed. She allowed no one else into the house, not even a servant or a cook. We kept entirely to ourselves and we were very happy in each other's company.
One evening, as I lay on my grandmother's lap in front of the fire, she said to me, ‘I wonder what happened to that little Bruno.’
‘I wouldn't be surprised if his father gave him to the hall-porter to drown in the fire-bucket,’ I answered.
‘I'm afraid you may be right,’ my grandmother said. ‘The poor little thing.’
We were silent for a few minutes, my grandmother puffing away at her black cigar while I dozed comfortably in the warmth.
‘Can I ask you something, Grandmamma?’ I said.
‘Ask me anything you like, my darling.’
‘How long does a mouse live?’
‘Ah,’ she said. ‘I've been waiting for you to ask me that.’
There was a silence. She sat there smoking away and gazing at the fire.
‘Well,’ I said. ‘How long do we live, us mice?’
‘I have been reading about mice,’ she said. ‘I have been trying to find out everything I can about them.’
‘Go on then, Grandmamma. Why don't you tell me?’
‘If you really want to know,’ she said, ‘I'm afraid a mouse doesn't live for a very long time.’
‘How long?’ I asked.
‘Well, an ordinary mouse only lives for about three years,’ she said. ‘But you are not an ordinary mouse. You are a mouse-person, and that is a very different matter.’
‘How different?’ I asked. ‘How long does a mouse-person live, Grandmamma?’
‘Longer,’ she said. ‘Much longer.’
‘A mouse-person will almost certainly live for three times as long as an ordinary mouse,’ my grandmother said. ‘About nine years.’
‘Good!’ I cried. ‘That's great! It's the best news I've ever had!’
‘Why do you say that?’ she asked, surprised.
