A Mouse Called Rosie

Will was only three months old when Rosie first appeared. It was a moment Will’s mother Rachel would be proud of, being that she was the kind of woman who often stayed up all night to make sure the house was clean. What Rosie’s appearance meant to Rachel was that she really wasn’t the great home maker she strives to be. With Rosie being a mouse, a field mouse no doubt from the large field of grass behind Rachel’s house.

Rosie had first approached Will while he was doing Tummy Time and Rachel was doing dishes. As she cleaned, Rachel heard her son laughing, the cute hiccuping baby laugh that just melted Rachel’s heart. From where she stood, Rachel smiled.

As the laughing continued, Rachel walked around the corner for a better view of her baby.

“What’s so funny, baby boy?” She asked before what she saw stopped her dead in her tracks.

A small but still very sizeable baby filed mouse was inches away from her baby’s face.

Rachel began screaming, which made will immediately start crying, and caused the mouse to take off running. It disappeared faster than Rachel could even see it run away.

She scooped up her son and held him in her arms as she tried to sooth him.

“Why were you laughing you weirdo?” Rachel asked her son as he finally started to calm down.

After a short while, Will was calm again. Everything in the house was calm again, despite Rachel’s building feelings of immense unease.

A year later, Will was up and walking, forming small but clear sentences such as: “Momma, cup!” or “Momma, I cream!”, his code for Ice Cream.

One evening before he went to bed, he said something that took Rachel’s attention away from the book she was reading while she sat on the couch.

“Momma! It Rosie!” He said, laughing.

Rachel looked up from the page she was reading. “Who’s Rosie, baby?” She asked, then saw Rosie.

Crawling over Will’s feet was a field mouse. Rachel didn’t know if it was the same mouse she had seen when Will was three months old. She didn’t know the life span of mouse. Whether or not it was the same mouse with an insanely long life span, Rachel didn’t know, and didn’t care. She bolted from the couch, causing her hard cover book to fly and land onto the floor with a hard THUD that just barely missed the mouse, and caused Will to flinch with surprise and start wailing.

Rachel picked up Will, rocked and soothed him until he stopped crying just like with the first encounter with Rosie.

What is the deal with this mouse? Rachel wondered. My house is clean, I stay up cleaning it and making sure it’s critter free. What is the deal with this mouse? And why does Will laugh and seem so happy when this mouse shows up?

Months later, Rachel encountered the mouse again. Only this time, Will wasn’t home but rather at his Grandmother’s for the weekend. So it was just Rachel home alone with the mouse when it appeared again.

Rachel stepped out onto the back patio to move and polish pieces of the wrought iron furniture set. When she stepped out, Rachel looked down and saw the most again, just sitting and grooming itself, not at all bothered by Rachel’s presence.

This time, Rachel didn’t scream as she had the times before. She just continued looking at the mouse, this time noticing a small but noticeable wine colored little blemish on time of its head.

“You must be Rosie.” Rachel said. “Well, thank you for not scaring me again, like you did all the times before. I have to tell you though, you don’t live here. You’re a mouse, you don’t live here. So, please, go away now. I really don’t want to hurt you or call an exterminator, but if you keep showing up like this, you’re going to leave me no choice. I don’t know what diseases you might have, so you just can’t be coming around my baby.”

Rosie looked at up Rachel, unafraid, and curious. Then Rosie turned around and scurried away.

A few minutes later, Rosie came back. Only this time, she wasn’t empty handed. In her mouth she had a small little flower, a new budding blossom, not much different from the small little wine stained birthmark on the mouse’s head. Rosie sat there for a long time with the flower in her mouth, looking at Rachel with a look of caution similar to Rachel’s. Then to Rachel’ surprise, Rosie approached with the flower and dropped it at Rachel’s feet.

A peace offering, it seemed.

Then Rosie scurried away into the yard.

Rachel stood there for looking at the small red flower at her feet. She’s never experienced anything like this, a mouse bringing her a flower to make peace. That’s really what it was, wasn’t it? This outside, innocent little force, wanted just to make nice.

The possible diseases still gave Rachel pause about wanting to this mouse into any kind of house pet. There could be compromises made she supposed.

Rachel brought out a large slice of sharp cheddar cheese. Then Rachel placed the cheese beside the flower. Then, she waited.

Hours later, while Rachel sat watching TV, she could see Rosie on the other side of the sliding glass door, eating away at the slice of cheddar.

It was a simple acceptance of Rachel’s peace offering.

By the time Will turned three, Rosie was occasionally welcome into the house.

Will was allowed to house the mouse, as long as he wore gardening gloves, he was gentle, and he washed his hands once it was time for Rosie to go back outside.

People who came over for small dinner parties at Rachel’s house looked at all of this with a look of disgust, forcing them to ask Rachel how she could let her child play with something as filthy as a wild field mouse.

Rachel would shrug when these questions were asked. “I take the right precautions, and do what I can to keep Will safe. Rosie makes Will happy. Mix that with all I do to keep him safe, well you basically have parenting, trying to keep your baby happy while making sure they don’t get here. I can’t hide will from the outside world forever, can I?”

To this, no one said a word. Rachel glanced at her son, who now on his own, let Rosie outside for the night. Then he turned to Rachel, his hands out to show her he needed his hands washed, and that he was ready to go to bed for the night.

Though Rachel wouldn’t have thought it possible, she had learned a simple fact of parenthood from this little mouse. Sometimes you just have to let go, whether or not peace offerings are made. If they can’t be made, well it’s not the end of the world, though it is nice when peace offerings manage to be made.

The End