The House Of Mouse

(I’m about 12 years old and my sister about 10. We’re hanging out on our room at night both wearing our PJs; my sister wears slippers in the shape of a dog. My grandma is downstairs in the dining room.)

Grandma: *shouting upstairs* “Come here, quick!”

(I go downstairs and my sister follows.)

Me: “Mom’s not home; what’s wrong?”

Grandma: “I think there’s a mouse in the bookshelf.”

Me: “How do you know?”

Grandma: “I hear little noises. I think it might be moving the stuff we have up there.”

(I stay quiet and listen for a while but I hear nothing.)

Grandma: “I might be the TV, grandma.”

(I go back upstairs with my sister. A while passes.)

Grandma: “There it is again! Come quick!”

(I run downstairs with my sister and once again we hear nothing. My sister goes upstairs a little disappointed she didn’t hear anything but I stay. A while later I hear a soft *tip* *tip* *tip* from above the bookshelf.)

Me: “Oh, I hear it!”

Grandma: “I told you! There must be a mouse there!”

(I get on a chair and try to look up the shelf, but I find nothing.)

Me: “There’s nothing up here.”

(We hear the *tip**tip**tip* again.)

Me: “There’s the sound again!”

(My sister rushes down to hear, but after a while we don’t hear it again. Since I can’t find anything, my grandma tells me to give up and I go back upstairs with my sister. After a while, I hear the sound again and look up and I see my sister laying in bed on her stomach, swinging her feet, hitting the wall. Turns out the little noise was her slipper’s dog’s noses hitting on the wall!)