“I don’t believe in Mermice!” Said the little mouse one day. “It’s easy to disbelieve what you haven’t seen.” Grunted her grandpa, the old sea dog. His fur was dry and weathered from the salts of the ocean, though it had been years since he was last out of the waters. And he missed it, oh how he missed it. “Now come sit here with me for a while and listen little one,” he continued. “I shall tell you a tale of the Mermouse, for I met one once I did. True as my whiskers twirl, I promise.” The little mouse looked up at her grandpa, eyes wide and mouth agape. She got on her paws and shuffled toward the old sea dog. Onto his lap she climbed, eyes peeked with curiosity. “How can a mermouse exist, grandpa? The waters are so big, and we are so small. We’d be foolish to try to swim. Surely we would sink and drown.” The old sea dog chuckled. “Your logic is sound, little one, but listen up. The Mermouse was born of the waters. Her tail was not that of a mouse, her tail is that of a fish and this is what happened…”
Image 1 of 1
