Ned Needed a Bed

Ned needed a bed

And a barn on a farm seemed a fine house for a mouse.�

His cousins greeted him with glee.

“Farmyard mice live a marvelous life!”

“Just mind the traps!” “And the farmer’s cats!”

“And best stay clear of the wife!”

“Too much danger for a bed,” said Ned,

So he fled.

On he walked when

From high overhead came the chitter�

Of a squirrel tending her litter.�

“Why, of course,” squeaked Ned with a flush,

“What’s a squirrel, but a mouse with a brush!”

Ned searched for a door,

“How strange,” he said.

There was no door. Nor a gate.

Nor, for that matter, there even a ladder,

And the hour was fast growing late.

The forest fell silent.

Not a sound to be heard.

Ned turned to leave, but was met by a bird.

“I’ve been watching you,” cooed the owl.

“Out all alone. Without a hope. Without a home!

Come to my nest. Sleep. Take a rest.”

“I’m sure your nest is very nice,

But we both know that owls eat mice.”

“A mole from a hole, perhaps,

Or a rabbit out of habit.

But a mouse without a house!? Heavens no!”

The owl’s tummy growled.

Ned ran.

He scrambled for the brambles

And hid among the thorns.

There he spent the night, tired and forlorn.

Feeling the prick of a pointy leaf,

A bed, thought Ned, would be his only relief.

Morning came with little warning,

And Ned carried on his way.

He spoke to a bat—who left in a flap.

He spoke to a mole defending its hole.

He spoke to a skunk—who sprayed him with gunk,

But no one would share their home.

On and on and on he walked.

Ned needed a bed,

But smelly and covered in dirt,

A bath, Ned decided, couldn’t possibly hurt.

That’s when something caught his eye,

And, not really knowing why,

He followed it through the bushes.

A sign in the leaves proudly declared,

“Welcome to the baths of Who-Knows-Where!”

Too tired to deliberate,

And too smelly to hesitate,

Ned dragged himself inside.

Hoping to see another mouse

Ned glanced about the strange bathhouse.

Not a mole nor a vole, a rat nor a bat.

Though he searched from wall to wall,

Nothing resembled a mouse at all!

Ned moved carefully through the haze,

Hoping to avoid the gaze

Of critters many times his size.

Shower, soap, and lather—

He washed his worries down the drain

And started to feel himself again

When…

Ned plucked up his courage and spoke.

“Excuse me,” he said with a croak,

“If you’re planning on eating me

Then why are you treating me like a sponge?”

The old bear jumped and stared at her paw.

Noticing Ned she unleashed a guffaw!

The bathhouse’s patrons were an interesting bunch,

They’d sooner be friends than eat Ned for lunch.

He floated happily.

One by one the patrons departed,

And each new farewell left Ned quite downhearted.

Eventually, only Ned and Bear

Were sitting in the bath of Who-Knows-Where.

Bear yawned.

“My cubs are grown so I live alone

And wouldn’t mind a mouse about the house.”

She offered a paw.

“You’d have a bed of your own,

And full use of my home

Seeing as I sleep through the winter.”

With barely a hesitation,

Ned accepted the bear’s invitation.

They left together.

As they walked,

Ned talked

Contentedly,

Until

Sleep

Came

Suddenly.

Soft safe and warm—

Ned’s new bed was so much more

Than he had ever wanted for.

He closed his eyes to sleep.

“Thank you, Bear,” said Ned.

“It really is a wonderful bed,”

And, finally feeling at home,

“It’d be a shame to sleep alone.”

“Good night.”