Table Mountain

The wee mouse had snuck in.
The cat was not on the mat. Or anywhere else.
And that wee mouse knew exactly where she was heading.
She was heading to the very top
Of Table Mountain.

They were a messy family, The Frees.
Apart from Mrs. Free of course. But she was away.
And Mandy Mouse knew
That upon that wooden summit
Would lie a feast fit for a queen.
Crumbs, and rice grains, and who knew what other sumptuous offerings?

And so she began.
First springing easily up the two wooden steps
That led to base camp.
Then the hard part.

She dug in with her wee claws to those old table legs
And slowly pulled herself up the necessary foot and a half
Hanging on when one or other leg lost it’s grip
Until she reached the dangling corner of the table cloth.

This bit was very awkward.
She had to make a little leap out and backwards
From her precarious position on the leg
To grab hold of the hanging cotton.

But she managed it skilfully.
And then it was fairly easy to get to the table top itself
By clever use of toes slightly nipping into the old cloth.

And thus she reached, without too much fuss, her Nirvana. She’d made it.

Peaking over the top she looked to see what joys awaited her.

But …. oh no!
There appeared to be no initial sign of food at all.
Surely not?
She quickly clambered over
And looked around in desperation.
Then she explored the whole table top in its entirety.
Every inch of the summit.
And she found, to her horror, not a single sign of anything remotely edible.

Slowly, tragically, the terrible truth dawned upon her.
Her planned ascent to Heaven
Had led instead to a fiery Hellish knowledge.

It was a disaster. The worm had turned!

Mr Free, she realised with certainty, was no longer free.

He had finally succumbed to….

…..Domestication!