Tale of the Meremouse

The tiny creature swam up through my plumbing pipes. She was teenier than a real rodent, much smaller. Not lady bug petite, but teensy, grasshopper-size. She had wings but they were black, not gossamer. Do not forget the paddles on her feet! My muse reminds me. I scoff; she does not realize I was writing before she developed. The meremouse crept in quietly, she had a forked tail. And teeth – oh, my goodness, three rows at least! The cat opened one eye and watched her scoot by. Not wanting to encounter any of those rows of teeth. She was also wearing a Las Vegas headdress-like wig. This intimidated the cat also; he is a tom, easy to intimidate. The meremouse focused on one object, and it was the cheese. She waited patiently to steal it until we were in REM sleep. Then she opened the refrigerator with her enormous lasso-like tail. Stole every bit of cheese we had in there – feta, mozzarella, cheddar. Anyway, this is my husband’s version of what happened. He is the only one who saw the mythical meremouse.