It was a chilly autumn night. I was about to get into the warm bed where Mama and Papa sleep, but I heard a noise from our kitchen. I walked around the counter in the dark and peeked out at the kitchen floor. There was nobody, but I knew that that was a mouse making those crunching, squeaky noises in the cabinet. I could smell him. I sat in front of the cabinet door and patiently waited. Mama came to the kitchen for a glass of water, and when she opened the refrigerator, the mouse jumped out from under the cabinet. Like a speedball, he ran from the kitchen to the living room and disappeared under a bookshelf. He was tiny, but he moved so fast. I almost caught him, but Mama got in my way. The mouse ran right over Mama’s bare foot. Surprised, she let out a scream, and woke Papa up. She almost gave him a heart attack. Boy, she was loud. Disturbed from his deep sleep, Papa turned the lights on.
“What happened?” he asked, frowning. His hair was stuck almost straight up in the air.
“A mouse ran out from under the cabinet and ran across my foot!” Mama replied.
Another disturbing noise interrupted their conversation. Loud sirens and the red and yellow flashing lights of fire engines cut through the dark cold street outside. Papa looked at Mama and asked in low voice, “Did you call 911? Maybe they just heard your scream.”
(To be continued in the book, "Happy Birthday, the Cat")