When we arrived everyone was in a big circle staring down at something on the floor. My first thought was that the Great Catsby had decided to pay me back and one of our own mice was laying on the floor. I raced up to the crowd yelling, “What happened? Who did Catsby get this time?”
Chapter 11
I frantically pushed my way through the crowd of mice. My actions against the Great Catsby had caused another tragedy. Whoever it was, it was my fault. I would stand up and take the blame for it. Once I cleared the front person from the crowd, I came to screeching halt. I stared down at me looking up at me. Isaiah had finished the poster and it was stupendous. “Wow!” was all I could say.
Lily poked her head between my legs and squeaked, “The picture looks like you, Judachew. Only he is good looking!” Then she laughed. The mouse next to me laughed. The one next that mouse laughed and it soon caught on. All the mice were laughing at her joke. I gave her ear a tug, and she twisted her head to look up at me. Those big brown eyes always melted my heart. “Sorry, big brother, I couldn't resist kidding you a little bit.”
Isaiah looked at me and said, “Do you like it?”
“Like it? I love it! This is going to make people come to the concert just to get copies of the program we hand out,” I said.
“You mean I have to look at that goofy face again to draw a program?” Everyone laughed again before Izzy's dad held up his hands to hush everyone and spoke.
“What happened with Faith Ann? Is she going to help?”
“She was every bit as nice as Campbell said she was. She will talk to her grandmother and the two of them are meeting us tomorrow afternoon. If Mrs. Leever likes the idea then she will get Bob Leever to approve it. After that it is nothing but hard work. Is everyone ready for some hard work that will save our homes?” I called out.
Carissa's father spoke up next. “As you all know, this coming Saturday is the Great Corn Harvest for us mice. The farmers will finish on Friday night so the fields will be filled with corn. As you all know, this reminds me of the Bible story where Boaz, the owner of the farm, allowed Ruth to glean from the fields all that the harvesters left behind. On Saturday, Project Ruth begins. The Women's Auxiliary Basket Weaving Circle has the baskets ready. We will begin at sunrise and glean until sunset. Pray for good weather and the absence of you know what.”
“Cats!” the crowd of mice yelled together.
“Which reminds me, does anyone know why the Great Catsby was running around meowing like he got his paw caught in a trap?” Carissa's father questioned.
“Yeah, he got his paw caught in a trap,” Campbell said. “He was reaching into the hole on the path to the choir room and Judachew pushed that old trap close to him. I don't think he will try that again.”
“Three cheers for Judachew,” called out Carissa.
The day went fast as we all worked hard to prepare for Project Ruth, as the church mice called it. In New York we didn't have a corn harvest in our little village. Here in Iowa it was a rite of passage for every small, medium and large mouse in our church building. A few of the older boy mice had great reputations as top harvesters. They could glean a few hundred baskets in a single day. This was foreign to me as a city mouse, but I would soon look up to the older boys as great providers for our community.
That evening we gathered for a time of singing. I learned some new songs and did a solo or two of my favorite songs. Everyone wanted to hear the song I sang on TV and I was more than happy to fulfill that request. Towards the end, I looked over and saw my sister, Lily, asleep in Mother's arms. Dad quietly picked her up and carried her into the house. I knew she would sleep well for tomorrow she would once again accompany us to meet with Faith Ann and Mrs. Leever.
Once all the lights were out and not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse, I laid in my bed thinking. Could we save the church? I had given everyone hope but hope wasn't enough. I needed to sing my heart out so that people would donate to the fund. I knew there was one thing missing from my plan but I wasn't sure what it was. Tomorrow was another day and I was sure that missing piece would come to some mouse's mind. I said my prayers and fell asleep.
I awoke to the sound of my mother singing in the kitchen. I hadn't heard her do that for weeks and weeks. She was feeling very much at home. It was a wonderful feeling to grow up in a home so filled with love. I felt a tug at my blanket. It was Lily standing next to me rubbing the sleep from her eyes.
“I fell asleep at the singing party last night. Did I miss anything?” she asked.
“No, kiddo. It seems that every other mouse got tired after you. We broke up the fun and every good little boy and girl mouse went to bed. Are you ready to meet Mrs. Leever today?”
“Yeah, I was thinking that I should wear that nice, little pink bow in my tuft of fur. What do you think?” she asked through a morning yawn.
“Great idea. Remember, your sweetness is what is going to get this concert on the road,” I told her as I swung my feet out of bed and touched the floor.
“Judachew, don't be so dumb about Campbell,” she added as I passed by her for the door.
“What are you talking about?” I argued. Girl mice could be very confusing, even little, tiny girl mice.
She let out a big sigh and said, “Never mind. You'll never get it.”
The afternoon rendezvous with Faith Ann and her grandmother came quickly. I had spent the morning with Isaiah working on the program for the concert. I had great hopes that Mrs. Leever would join us in our plan to save the church. Our walk to the choir room was uneventful this time. There was no cat paw in the way, no trap to set off and happily, no drama. When we got to the hole, Faith Ann was already playing “How Great Thou Art.” I took that as my cue to enter singing.
The three of us walked in and I looked up. I was shocked and stunned. There was Faith Ann at the piano, Mrs. Leever was sitting next to her on the bench and in the folding chairs sat three older men. Campbell whispered to me that one of them was Bob Leever. I continued to sing and when I finished the first verse, the three men clapped. That was a good sign.
“My little mice friends, I can see that my wife and granddaughter were telling me the truth. You are real and to be more honest, I like your idea and your bravery. It takes a lot of courage to come out from behind that wall and show yourself to us. I want to hear your plans and that is why I brought along the Deacon board. If we like what we hear then we will okay it right here and now,” Bob Leever said.
Mrs. Bee Leever crouched down in front of us and asked me who my friends were. I introduced Campbell and Lily. Mrs. Leever placed her hand near Lily and asked her to jump on. She talked to her as she raised my sister up and onto the back of the upright piano. “You are the cutest little thing. I want you to sit up here by Faith Ann and me. Would you like a piece of cookie?” Lily nodded her head up and down enthusiastically. So far, this meeting was moving along quite well.
I stood in front of the three Deacons and explained how we had just moved here with our Pastor and his wife, and how much I hated new Sunday School classes. I think the three men were surprised to hear about the mouse Sunday School class that took place at the same time as their classes. I told them about Catsby and then I explained about the concert.
“Judachew, I have been in this church from the time I was a newborn baby,” Bob Leever said with a smile on his face. “My mother had been in this church since she was a baby, and her Dad helped to build this very building. I do not like the Bishop's plan to sell it, but we all knew that we did not have the money to save the property. I sat up the last few nights praying that God would provide a way to save our building. I do believe that God has answered my prayers. I vote to give this concert a chance to save the church we all love and sacrificed for.” The other two Deacons nodded their heads yes.
Mrs. Leever turned to me and spoke, “Faith Ann said that you need a piano player. Sign us both up for that. We will do everything we can and I will get the Ladies Auxiliary to make anythin
g else you need and prepare refreshments for after the concert. They will all be made from corn, of course, since it is the Great Corn Harvest Festival that day.”
Campbell jumped up and down with excitement yelling, “We are going to save our church!” Faith Ann looked at me and said, “Judachew, this is very strange but I think I hear her saying 'We are going to save our church.' Is that possible? Is she a singing mouse, as well?”
“It is my understanding that when people have faith and hope then miracles happen,” I told Faith Ann. “I think you now have faith and hope and soon the whole church will have it.”
Chapter 12
The next few days were filled with activity for both the human and mouse church members. We had to prepare for both the gleaning and the concert. Faith Ann, Mrs. Leever and I spent hours picking out songs for the concert. Faith Ann had some great ideas for costumes and thought maybe some of the mice from my Sunday School class would enjoy being in the show. We decided to have them do a dance number while I sang.
Ethan was the only one who didn't agree to it. It wasn't that he was disagreeing with it, he was just too busy listing out foods that were made with corn.
I asked him and his answer was, “Corn salsa, corn mush, corn chowder, corn casserole, corn...”
I stopped practice long enough to watch the mice make copies of the poster. It was very ingenious how they hoisted up the lid of the copier with a string and pulley system. Four of them scurried across the glass, slipping on the smooth surface, falling, then standing again until they got the poster in the correct place. Elsie got the job of jumping up and down on the green button. Copies of the poster spit out of the machine. As they did, four of the mice rolled it up and handed a copy off to those who were going to post them.
Holding the two top ends, two mice would run up a telephone pole while another carried chewed off strips of tape to each corner. Before the day was finished, our little mouse brigade had covered the small Iowa town with one hundred announcements for the Corn Harvest Festival Concert starring me, the singing mouse. By evening I could hear the kind villagers talking about it as they strolled by the church building. If everyone who said they wanted to come arrived for the concert then it would be standing room only.
The next day was a beautiful Indian summer afternoon. My Sunday School class decided to gather under the green, leafy, big bush in the front of the church building. We watched humans walk by chattering about the harvest work they were doing. Several of the teens were walking slowly after working long days in the corn fields detasseling the corn. I laughed at that and asked Izzy, never to be called Dizzy Izzy, what detasseling was.
“You city boys don't know much, do you?” she said. “The tassel is the top of the corn stalk. It is like a flower. The teens go out in the fields, pull off the tassels and throw them on the ground.”
“Why do they throw them away like that after doing all that work to pull them off? It doesn't sound real smart to me,” I retorted.
“They do it so the pollen from one type of corn will pollinate the seeds from another type of corn and create a healthier and better tasting corn. They didn't teach you that type of thing back in New York?” Izzy questioned. I shook my head no but was stopped in mid-motion by the sight of a large, luxury limousine as it pulled in front of the church.
The Bishop struggled to get his body out of the car while wearing his large, tall pointy hat. He stumbled as he exited the car but a hand reached down and steadied him. It was the man who owned all the cats. He roughly dragged the Bishop over to the poster for our concert that was taped to the pole in front of us.
“How do you explain this, you little weasel. You already have my down-payment and from the looks of that big, new pointy hat, you spent most of it already. What are you going to do about this? My cats are ready to move in and now those wretched, fuzzy mice are doing a concert to save the building. Who gave them permission to do this in my building?” the cat man growled.
“Technically, the church members still have possession of the building. I don't think a concert with a stupid mouse is going to stop our plans. I have been thinking about this problem as my chauffeur drove me over here. I believe there is a way to turn this whole concert into a Great Corn Festival Fiasco. I believe you are in possession of large number of cats. Am I correct?” the Bishop said.
As he said the word cat, the Great Catsby strolled up slowly and silently behind his master. He listened intently while the Bishop continued his plan. “What do you think would happen if a hundred cats showed up for a mouse buffet? There would be mice of every size. Thin ones, chubby ones and of course, this singing one would be there just ready to be caught and eaten. Can you take care of that? Can you get your legion of felines to come to a room full of delicious, delectable mice?”
Emily gasped. Her sound reached Catsby's ears. He quickly swiveled his head and looked straight at me. The cat flashed a large grin so I could see his sharp teeth, then he drew a fat, bruised and swollen talon across his neck. He was indicating that the concert would be my last day on this planet.
Chapter 13
The cat man rubbed his stubbly chin. His ice cold, blue eyes looked hard at Catsby and then he turned his face back to the Bishop and spoke. “I have an additional idea. According to some of my cats, the mice spend this coming Saturday gleaning the fields after the harvest. They run back and forth across the church's back lawn all day long. The cats can leisurely snatch up a mouse every few minutes until their little cat bellies are stuffed full of mouse goodness.” Catsby's smile grew even larger as he heard this.
“That sounds like indescribable fun and a grand show to watch. If I wasn't out trying to steal another church building to sell, then I would love to come and observe, while sitting in my big, red velvet chair with a bowl of popcorn. Let me know how that works out. If it doesn't then put my plan into action. You'll have your new cat hotel the following Sunday,” the Bishop said as he slithered back towards his luxury limousine.
Catsby turned to me again and rubbed his belly. He wanted me to know that it was he that would catch me. I was ready to take the battle to him, right then and there. I took two steps towards the edge of the bushes when Ava caught my arm. “Don't do it. We can outsmart them instead of fighting them,” she said. Ava was right. All we needed was a good plan. Unfortunately, I didn't have one.
That night my Sunday School class reported everything we had overheard to the mouse families of our church. A few possible ideas were presented but none of them caught our attention as being able to save Project Ruth. Finally, Ethan stepped into the center of us all and sad, “Do you realize that if there is no gleaning then I can't eat all those marvelous corn dishes? That is not acceptable. I have an idea that I think will work.” His plan was crazy. It was outlandish. It sounded like the ravings of corn-fed lunatic but more than that, it sounded like it could work.”
“”Ethan's plan may put Project Ruth back on track but it still left us with the horrible thought of a hundred cats showing up at the concert to disrupt the presentation,” said Carissa. “I feel like we jumped from the frying pan into the fire.”
All the mice nodded their heads in agreement. I could see their excitement and faith draining from their bodies. We needed another plan to take care of the enemy, cat battalion a second time, if we survived their first attack.
My classmate John had a solution. “We need to get Lucky,” he said.
“I don't think luck is what we need. We need hope, faith and prayer,” I retorted.
“I don't mean luck. I mean Lucky. Tomorrow Judachew and I are going to see my friend, Lucky. He will be exactly what we need,” John said. John and I made plans to visit with Lucky the next day. He told me no more about his friend nor about our visit. I was left guessing.
John and I left early the next afternoon to go see Lucky. We didn't arrive at his place of business until we hit the edge of town. I had no idea who Lucky was or even what Lucky was. “Here we are,” John said. “This is
where Lucky works.” We were standing in front of a junk yard. There were cars spread all over the ground along with battered, old refrigerators and rusting metal parts from any number of items. I was looking all around when I heard a horrible, vicious growl that made me jump in the air. My eyes pivoted to a large, unkempt, dirty dog with a patch over a blind eye, minus one leg, most of his teeth gone and one chewed off ear.
I gulped until John said, “Judachew, this is Lucky.”
I did my best to hold back a laugh. If this dog was lucky then who needed bad luck. I cleared my throat and reached out a paw to greet him. Lucky reached out his but I noticed that it had no toes. I could restrain myself no longer, I had to know. I asked, “Why do they call you Lucky?”
The junk-yard dog motioned with his upturned paw towards all that surrounded him. “Just look at this paradise that God gave me to live in. I get to chase away thieves and stray cats all day long. Plus, I have got great friends. Every dog in the village is my friend and John, here, is one of my best friends. He's not a bad guy, for a mouse, wouldn't you say?”
“When you put it like that then I have to agree. You are one lucky dog,” I agreed. It made me think. Maybe I needed Lucky's attitude. He saw the world around him as a gift from God. I needed to do the same.
“Lucky, we need your help,” said John.
“Just tell me what I need to do and you will get my help. Let's go sit in the shade of that old mini-van and have few bites of dog food. You do like dog food, don't you, Judachew?” Lucky said with a wink from his one good eye. I had never tasted it before but I was sure it would be fine. I was wrong.
After John explained his idea, which I heard for the first time, Lucky lapped up a mouthful of water from an old hubcap, as he pondered the proposition before he spoke. “Let me make sure that I understand what you are asking of me. You want me and all my ruffian, dog friends to sing in a choir at the church. That is the craziest idea I have ever heard. Are you sure they will let an old, junk-yard dog into church? I mean, I am not one of those holy, holy dogs or one of those pretty, French Poodles.”
I Hate New Sunday School Classes Page 4