My Writer's Cramp Pieces

The Cat, Dog, and Mouse

A cat has dire intentions for a little mouse.

The Cat, Dog, and Mouse

A Writer’s Cramp prompt: Write a story 1000 words or less or a poem 40 lines or less about a cat and mouse who are forced to become friends and take on a mutual enemy...



The German Shepherd’s wide mouth gaped open in an eager grin. Saliva dripped between two curved rows of scissor-like teeth.

Mr. Mouse nibbled at a left-out chunk of cheese, a piece so small no one else would have noticed it.

The dog grinned wider. A drop of slobber slipped to the floor. The dog crept forward.

Up went Mr. Mouse’s head. His nostrils sniffed, whiskers felt the air. Two paws froze, eyes searched. Nothing. He bent down, nibbled another bite.

The dog, paws bent low, silent as a slithering snake, skulked closer. From two feet away, it sprang, jumped up onto the table, and snapped at Mr. Mouse. The dog’s fearsome bilateral teeth closed together in one thunderous chomp.

Mr. Mouse squeaked a high-pitched note of pain, a note so high it caused the dog to shake its head. But a single tooth snagged Mr. Mouse’s tail. He swung back and forth, each shake of the dog’s head caused the issue of another piercing mouse cry.

The dog’s mouth opened slightly in an effort to form a better grip, but Mr. Mouse seized the moment, jerked loose, a piece of skin left behind. Quick as a candle flame, Mr. Mouse dashed away.

Across the room, a small gray cat perched atop the bookcase, ruffled her fur in anger. She growled deep, let out a grating rumble of irritation. Her tail twitched back and forth, slapped at a book, beat at it with a fierceness that sent dust molecules into the air.

Mr. Mouse darted by the angry cat, but he ran floor-level. The cat perched high on the bookcase, remained too fearful of the presence of the dog to leave her place of safety. Her cat claws sank down into the bookcase wood, pierced it. Her hind paws flexed with eagerness, desire flared in her wide green eyes.

“Almost got you again, didn’t the beast?” the cat said, as she watched the mouse slide into home base. “We gotta do something about that bully.”

Mr. Mouse turned about, peeked out of his hole, eyed the fuzzy demon. “Like you should talk. Your claws curve with hunger each time I approach.”

“Hunger? Nah. The people feed me. I don’t need to eat a scrawny rat.”

The mouse sat on his haunches, thought about that comment. He wanted to retreat, to lick his pride, to take a moment to be grateful for his escape from the dog, but that cat had no right to classify him so detestably. He took a step from the doorway, looked about, then stamped his diminutive paw.

“I’m not a rat. I’m a mouse, a third generation house mouse, to be exact.”

The dog cleaned off all the scraps on the table, jumped down, then curled itself on a rug near the fireplace. It soon snored in happy contentment.

“Sure. I know you’re not a rat. Just kidding. But what I was saying . . . That dog’s gotta go. You and me both know it. The beast’s gonna be the death of us one day if we don't do something. You want that?”

Mr. Mouse took another step forward, tilted his ear, wondered what the cat had in mind.

She sat on top the bookcase. No danger. Not for the moment. Besides, his hole lay just behind him. Mr. Mouse hunched down, brushed a bread crumb off his delicate whiskers, then cleaned up a smear of cheese wedged in the fur between his hind right paw. “Ah, yes. I believe you are correct, Fuzzy Demon.”

The cat did a bit of fur cleaning, too, then said, “I know what. We, two must become good friends. Then, we’ll come up with a scheme to get the dog thrown out of the house.”

“Friends? Uhhhh . . . Okay. Good idea . . . What’s first?” said Mr. Mouse.

He got so excited by the cat's suggestion, he forgot for a moment to keep his eyes on her, didn’t see her slide down the wall, her tail balancing four paws with knives at the end of each.

Luckily, Mr. Mouse smelled the cat. His paws back-stepped double-time. He slid into home base. Safe again.

“Silly rat,” said the cat. “I only intended to whisper a secret to you.”

“I’m not a rat.” Mr. Mouse retreated further inside his hole. His mommy hadn’t raised a fool.

The cat crept forward, poked her head deep inside. “I see you,” she said, then growled a sigh of disappointment.

Over by the fireplace, the dog lifted its head. With a grin from jowl to jowl, it bounded up, straight at the cat.

Too late, the cat remembered the hairy beast. When she heard the sound of its clawed pads tap-tapping the floor, she tugged, pulled, and jerked but her head remained stuck.

“Meoooow,” she yowled.

The dog pounced on the cat’s back which freed the cat’s stuck head. The two tumbled over, claws in hair, fur in dog’s mouth. Dog hair tumbled. Fur flew. Hisses. Yowls. A heavy lamp overturned.

The human mother stamped into the room, her arms swinging pendulums of anger. “What’s going on in here?”

The cat let go of her mouthful of hair. The dog let loose of the cat’s fur. Its tail wagged back and forth, toppled a flower vase and a dish of Christmas candy. Water splayed. Glass broke. Candies dotted the floor.

“Yowl,” cried the cat as it dashed out the door the father had just opened. The dog shot after the cat, half-knocking down the man as it ran by him.

“Leave them outside,” the woman said. “I don’t want either of them back in the house. Look at this mess.”

A pool of water spread across the floor. Candy slowly melted into it.

The father turned about and ran after the animals. The woman went into the kitchen to find rags to clean up the mess. Mr. Mouse, inside his hole sniffed the air, chuckled, then dashed out to load up on deliciousness.



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1,000 words