Tales from the Bark Side

By Keith Ross | The Daily Journal

Published Saturday, December 15, 2007

Welcome back to the bark side of life here in Ottertail where “boy it's cold” isn't just an expression; it's a fact of life.

I met some of my readers at the arts and crafts show held at Westridge Mall last weekend. Some of them were actual contributors to the column and it was fun to match the face with the person who wrote a letter or e-mailed me. Being the story teller I am, I kept an ear peeled (an expression my mother used a lot) for a potential tale.

Two good ears are standard equipment. Metaphors aside, this week I have a tale of mice, man, and the family cat, Snowball.

Back in the days just after the second World War, life was less complicated than it is today. Darlene Berge of Fergus Falls shared a tale with me last weekend at Westridge Mall.

It seems I misplaced her letter in my stack of “stuff” and didn't get a chance to print her tale. I have a chance to make things right with her story tale today that might puzzle the reader.

Growing up with a father that was blind in the 1940s was quite a challenge back then and still offers its fair amount of problems today for those who find themselves in that situation.

The father's name was Fred and he had a platform rocker that was his favorite place to kick back and relax and let the rigors of the day subside. Snowball was a white long-haired, domestic cat that was always in the mix of things around the house.

He was the epitome of casual comfort and resided in Fred's plush crushed velvet rocker during the day. One day, Fred was greeted with a hiss and a yowl when he sat down to relax in his easy chair. Fred sat on Snowball and all heck let loose.

Amongst this cacophony, there was a muted squeaking coming from within the rocker. Fred got up, Darlene came over to the rocker, and Snowball tried his best to look bored and disinterested. The more they rocked the chair back and forth, the louder the squeaking became. There was something amiss there.

Carefully cutting the back of the chair, Fred (in his unseeing condition) exposed a litter of eight white mice and a mother mouse nursing them without regard to the astonished group of humans and cat. Snowball had been sitting on top of a family of mice for who knows how long. Fred had been sitting and rocking in that chair for weeks without a peep (or squeak) from the residents down below.

The mice were taken to a shed, the chair was burned in effigy, and the mystery of how a momma mouse gave birth to a litter of micelings (or whatever baby mice are called) was created.

It stands to reason that the mother mouse had to find food for herself and not be detected. How did she do that? Aren't cats the natural enemy of mice? What was Snowball doing during these capers in the chair?

Fred's senses were heightened with the loss of his vision, so why didn't he hear the mice convention going on beneath him? These things may never be known but the tale of Momma Mouse, Fred, and Snowball has to be told.

The book (Tales From The Bark Side) has made a successful debut. You can purchase a copy at Victor Lundeen Company in time to give it as a Christmas gift. Your friends and family will find it a delightful coffee table book with interesting tales for all ages.