THERE'S A MOUSE IN THE HOUSE!

All animals trust my brother Joseph

Catherine Nicolette
My mom has been talking about animals a lot, lately. I really love animals. 
One of the realities of Charity work is that I need to be ready for a call out or field trip from time to time. Animals pine when the owner is away, so I have learned over the years that it is kinder not to put the little innocent through feeling abandoned. 
So I don't own a cat, dog or pet.

When I visit South Africa or India, well, it is simply marvellous. 
Animals everywhere in the garden, and all know me as I visit from time to time and an animal never forgets you. 
The simple eyes full of adoring devotion, the cat that falls asleep on your lap, the dogs whose tails nearly wag off with happiness to see you. 
All these things mean so much when you don't have the daily joy of this simple blessing.

Dad and Mom were absolutely marvellous about allowing us to have animals. 
The only time Mom ever struck out, though, was the Time Of The White Rat.
I was about ten years old at the time, and one of my brother's school friends owned a sweet little white rat which he had trained. 
The rat had a placid and loving temperament, and had learned to run from the palm of your right hand up your right blazer sleeve, around the neck (tickling your neck with its little whiskers in the process), navigate your collar successfully, and run down your left blazer pocket to land happily in the coccoon of your left hand to receive the little prize of a piece of cheese. 
We were amazed at the little thing's intelligence, and soon the scholarly entrepreneur had a booming business going of renting out the white rat to his friends for twenty cents a go for two days.

For two whole glorious days the temporary owner of the white rat would be the envy of his school friends as the little creature would snuggle to sleep in the top blazer pocket when the teacher came in to class. 
When woken up after class, he would run around the blazer and all would sigh in amazement. 
It must be explained that twenty cents at that time was an exorbitant amount of money. 
A full Wilson's buttermilk toffee (the large one) could be bought for half a cent. 
Two Chappies bubble gums could be bought for a half cent. So twenty cents... why, you were the next best thing to a Welkom billionaire. Anyhow. I digress.

I had somehow managed to save the princely sum of twenty cents. 
I pestered my brother's friend to let me rent Henry for two days. 
He refused, on the irrefutable grounds that I was a girl; his rules were that only boys could rent the rat. 
The only thing for it was a dare. I dared him to two games - one of football and the other of marbles. If I won both, I could rent the rat. 
Well, the boys were glum when I won both games (I was a bit of a tomboy at the time), and I triumphantly handed over the twenty cents and gloried in Henry's sweet nature.

Henry slept in a lined shoe box next to my bed the first night, and happily accompanied me to school the next day.
How the girls in my class oohed and aahed at the little miraculous creature.
Snuggled in my blazer pocket when Sister gave us geography, I felt the warmth of the little one sleeping peacefully, and I felt Rich Indeed. Until I got home.

Mom had a lovely meal ready for us around the table. 
I sat with my brothers (no sisters yet at that time), and after prayers Mom started to pour tea. 
I had just taken my first spoon of her delicious soup, when an unearthly shriek shattered the air.
Mom had staggered back from the table, right hand clutched frantically around the teapot, left hand pointing in horror. 
I looked behind me - what dreadful thing had happened? 
Henry's little nose was twitching in dismay, his whiskers tickling my neck, as he cuddled closer to the warmth of my neck - the poor little pet had got an awful fright. 
Mom was screeching, "A rat! A rat!"
"Oh," I said, realisation dawning, "That's not a rat, Mom. That's Henry."
"I don't care who he is," she said. "I have put up with rabbits. 
I have had dogs, cats, and birds from every corner of Welkom. 
There have been hamsters and silkworms and even a tortoise. 
But now I Have Had Enough! Either that rat goes or I do!"

I was brokenhearted. Banished from the warm house into the gloomy Welkom evening, I trundled my way miserably two doors down to hand over my little friend to his owner. 
I had my first encounter with a businessman to the core of his soul.
Upon my hesitant request for a refund in full or in part of my twenty cents, my brother's friend informed me dispassionately that none was forthcoming. 
I went home sadly to contemplate the empty shoe box that night. 
Moms were very hard, I thought. 
I heard Mom giving out about the rat to Dad when he came home that night, and his peaceable murmurs. 
He never said anything about Henry to me - Dad used to think I was quite a hoot at times.
"Such spirit, Ma," he would say about me to Mom, "Such spirit!"

I was very bitter next day when I found Henry had been rented out promptly to the next in line for another twenty cents the evening I had returned him. 
Henry's owner was well stocked with sweets and the Beano. 
He magnanimously let me have a read of the comic, which went some way to mollify me. 
And to this day, I remember my brother Joseph's reaction upon seeing Henry's sweet little face at my blazer collar; he cried out in delight;
 "There's a mouse in the house!"