Nana Barlowe and the Field Mice – Read and Print

By Rachel Dunstan Muller, copyright 2022

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There was once an old woman named Nana Barlowe who lived in a little house with her tabby cat, Mrs. Pipkin. It wasn’t a very big house, but it didn’t need to be – with only Nana Barlowe and Mrs. Pipkin to fill it. In fact, it was just the right size. It was purr-fectly lovely, as Nana Barlowe liked to say. Nana Barlowe would be rocking in her chair by the fire as she said this, with Mrs. Pipkin curled up in her lap. And Mrs. Pipkin would always meow in agreement.

But one winter’s morning when Nana Barlowe got out of bed to start a new fire to warm to the house, she found a little field mouse sitting by the hearth.

“Meow,” said Mrs. Pipkin, when she spied the intruder. “Mice don’t belong in the house!”

“But I’m just a little field mouse,” the little field mouse said to Nana Barlowe. “I’m so small, if you let me stay, you’ll hardly notice me at all.”

“Well, it is true,” Nana Barlowe said. “You are very small.”

“Meow, meow, meow!” said Mrs. Pipkin.

“Oh, Mrs. Pipkin,” said Nana Barlowe. “Let’s not be rude. Surely, we can make room for one little field mouse.”

And so, the little mouse stayed.

But the very next morning, when Nana Barlowe got up to make the fire – there was the little field mouse – plus five of its little friends.

“Oh, I knew you wouldn’t mind,” the first field mouse said, twitching its whiskers. “After all, we’re so very small.”

Mrs. Pipkin was not happy when she saw those extra mice. “Meow, meow, meow,” she said to Nana Barlowe. “Mice do not belong in the house.”

“Oh, Mrs. Pipkin,” said Nana Barlowe. “What’s a few field mice. I’m sure we won’t even notice them, they’re so little.”

But Mrs. Pipkin did notice them – with all their squeaking, and scurrying, and leaving crumbs all over the house. Poor Mrs. Pipkin. Field mice are very messy creatures – and Mrs. Pipkin prided herself on being a very tidy cat.

Well, the next morning when Nana Barlowe woke up, there weren’t just a few field mice by the hearth – there were field mice everywhere. They were on her bed and under her bed; they were on the table, and in the bookshelves, and on just about every space in between. In fact, the only space that wasn’t occupied by field mice, was Nana Barlowe’s rocking chair.

“I knew you wouldn’t mind,” the first field mouse said to Nana Barlowe. “It’s just a few of my family members, after all.”

Nana Barlowe looked around the crowded house. “A few of your family members?” she said.

“Oh, yes,” said the little field mouse. “These are just my aunts and uncles and cousins from my mother’s side of the family. My father’s side is twice the size. But don’t worry. We’re just little field mice. We hardly take up any space. You won’t notice us at all.”

Nana Barlowe did not look quite as convinced as before. “Well, I suppose it’s alright – as long as there’s a still a place for me in my rocking chair.”

And Mrs. Pipkin? Poor Mrs. Pipkin had given up entirely; she was hiding under the bed and would not come out.

That night Nana Barlowe didn’t sleep a wink– and neither did poor Mrs. Pipkin. The field mice had decided to have a party – and they’d invited every dormouse, field mouse, and house mouse for miles. By the time the clock struck one – which is very late indeed – Nana Barlowe’s cozy little house was filled to the rafters with twitching whiskers.

And that’s when Nana Barlowe sat up in her bed. “Enough,” she thundered. “You have overstayed your welcome. It’s time for you to leave.” But the mice didn’t even hear Nana Barlowe. They were too busy skittering up the walls, and scampering across the ceiling – and getting into all kinds of places they didn’t belong.

“Oh, Mrs. Pipkin, you were right,” said Nana Barlowe. “Mice do not make good guests; they do NOT belong in the house. You know what to do!”

Well, Mrs. Pipkin certainly did know what to do. With a great yowl, Nana Barlowe’s tabby cat came out from under the bed. She leapt this way and that way. She flexed her paws and swung her tail until every last mouse had scampered out the door, or the windows, or even up through the chimney. And when the last mouse had disappeared into the night, Mrs. Pipkin hopped up onto Nana Barlowe’s bed – and they both fell fast asleep.

The house was a disaster when they woke up the next morning. But it didn’t take long for Nana Barlowe to put it right. And when everything was neat and tidy and back in its place, Nana Barlowe poured herself a cup of tea, and sat down in her rocking chair with Mrs. Pipkin in her lap. “Ah. Isn’t it purr-fectly lovely,” said Nana Barlowe.

And to that, Mrs. Pipkin said, “meow!”

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