The Mousetrap

There was a mouse that lived under the floorboards. Despite the allure of sunlight, of open space and adventure, this mouse could not quite bring himself to leave his dwelling. Indeed, even though his family and friends were all detached from him, living above the boards somewhere (in plush green fields he supposed), he could not budge. At moments he would believe himself to be on the verge of leaving, but then a trick of the mind would force hesitation, and after that he would be quite persuaded to remain.

In fact, most often what encouraged the mouse to stay, or discouraged him from leaving, was the matter of a difference of opinion. Where his friends saw great adventure and excitement he shuddered in terror. Of their lust for (and his family’s security in) cheese he envisaged only the threat of a cat’s predatory paw. For this reason he much preferred just dreaming about cheese, feeling that even if he managed to find a chunk safely, he would only want to drag it back under the floorboards. This he could never do, and he would somehow never be fully satisfied with it in any case.

The mouse’s tolerance for his underground dwelling-place grew more and more, just as the frustration at his inability to change diminished. Actually, the familiar sight of floorboards above his head soon took on a reassuring quality, and the mouse now preferred living below to joining the others above. What had once seemed enticing to him now appeared unrealistic and distinctly unattractive. He realised that the others would never join him here, and even if he went above he would only replace his underground with some dank corner of a dark shed somewhere. Most importantly, the others would not understand that a chunk of cheese could never satisfy him. Nonetheless, this mouse was happy to be underground.