The Little Fat Dormouse
The Little Fat Dormouse
There was once a fat dormouse who lived in a cosy home in the hedge with his mother and father and four brothers and sisters. His name was Pitterpat because his feet went pitter-pattering like rain along the bank by his home.
Pitterpat didn't like being a dormouse. He was small, too small, he thought. Why couldn’t he be big, like a rabbit, or have sharp claws, like a cat? Then he would be somebody!
He thought he was much cleverer than his family. He was always laughing at them and telling them they were stupid. At last his brothers and sisters turned him out of the nest, and said:
'If you are so clever, go and find another home! Let us know when you have made your fortune and we will come and admire you - but until you have done something great, leaves us to ourselves!'
Pitterpat was very angry. He picked up his little bag and set off, vowing to himself that he would soon show his brothers and sisters what a clever fellow he was. Ha, he would be a cow, or a horse, or even a sharp weasel if he could find one who would teach him all the tricks.
Soon he came to a field. In it there were some sheep grazing, and Pitterpat went up to one of them.
'Madam,' he said, politely. 'I am a clever dormouse, but I would like to be a sheep. Will you tell me how?'
'Certainly,' said the surprised sheep, looking at the tiny dormouse. 'Can you baa?'
Pitterpat tried. He could squeak, but he could not seem to baa.
'Well, never mind,' said the sheep. 'You must grow wool on your back.'
'But that would be so hot,' said the dormouse. 'It is summertime.'
'You must grow wool if you want to be like us,' said the sheep.
'I don't think I will be a sheep,' said the dormouse and he scurried away, thinking that sheep must be stupid to wear wool in the summer. Soon he came to where a rabbit nibbled grass outside its hole.
'Sir,' he said, 'I am a clever dormouse, but I would like to be a rabbit. Will you tell me how?'
'Well, you must learn to make a great home of burrows under the ground,' said the rabbit. 'You must use your paws like this to scrape up the earth.' The rabbit scraped a shower of earth up and it fell all over the dormouse.
'That's a stupid thing to do,' said the dormouse, angrily. 'Look how dirty you have made me.'
The rabbit took no notice. 'Then,' he went on, 'you must grow a short, fluffy white bobtail like mine. It acts as a danger-signal to everyone when I run to my hole. My friends see my bobbing tail and run too.'
'My tail is much better than yours,' said the dormouse scornfully. 'I don't think I will be a rabbit.' He ran away, thinking what a stupid creature the rabbit was, covering him with earth like that and talking about bobtails.
He came to a pond after a while and saw a fine white duck squatting beside the water, basking in the sun. He went up and bowed.
'Madam!' he said. 'I am a clever dormouse, but I would like to be a duck. Will you tell me how?'
'First you must quack like this,' said the duck, and she opened her beak and quacked so loudly that the dormouse was half frightened. He opened his mouth and tried to quack too, but all the sound he made was a small squeal.
'And then,' said the duck, 'you must swim, like this!' She flopped into the water, and it splashed all over the watching dormouse, soaking him to the skin.
'You silly, stupid duck, look what you've done!' he cried in anger. 'You've nearly drowned me.'
'Oh, you'll have to get used to a wetting if you're going to be a duck,' quacked the duck, merrily.
'I don't think I will be a duck!' called the dormouse and hurried away. 'Silly creature,' he thought. 'Splashing me like that!'
A grunting noise made him stop. He looked under a gate and saw a large, fat pig in a sty. Ah, how pig and fine he looked! The dormouse crept under the gate and spoke to the pig.
‘Sir,’ he said, ‘I am a clever dormouse, but I would like to be a pig. Will you tell me how?’
‘Can you grunt, like this?’ said the surprised pig and grunted in such a vulgar manner that the dormouse was quit disgusted.
‘I shouldn’t wish to make such a rude noise as that,’ he said, his nose in the air. The pig grunted again and began to root about in the mud of his sty so roughly that poor Pitterpat was sent head-over-heels into a dairy puddle.
‘You must learn to root about like this, said the pig, twinkling his little eyes cheekily at the dormouse. ‘Oh, did I upset you?’
The dormouse picked himself up out of the mud and looked angrily at the pig,’ he said, huffily. ‘Nasty, dirty, ill-mannered creatures!’
The pig laughed gruntily, and the dormouse pattered off. Ugh! He wouldn’t be a dirty old pig for anything!
Outside the farmyard he met a sharp-nosed rat. This rat was eating potato parings which he had pulled from the rubbish-head. The Dor-mouse watched the rat, and noticed his clever, sharp eyes and the way in which he held the food in his front paws. Ah, here was a clever fellow, to be sure! Not stupid like the rabbit and sheep. Not wicked like the duck, not dirty like the pig. He would be a rat!
‘Sir,’ said the dormouse, going nearer. ‘I am a clever dormouse, but I would like to be a rat. Will you till me how?’
‘Certainly,’ said the rat. ‘Can you squeal like this?’ He squealed shrilly. The dormouse opened his mouth and squealed too.
‘Not so bad,’ said the rat. ‘Now can you hold food in your paws as I do?’ The dormouse tried, and found he could do it easily. He was delighted. Ah yes, he would certainly be a rat!
‘What else must I do?’ he asked.
‘You must learn to pounce on your victims like this,’ said the rat, and he leapt to one side. ‘See, this is how I catch a young bird! And see, this is how I pounce on a frog! And SEE! This is how I pounce on silly little dormice!’
He leapt at the astonished dormouse _ but Pitterpat gave a frightened squeal and fled for his life. Down the molehole he went and into a maze of small tunnels. The rat followed him, hungry for a dinner.
The dormouse slipped aside into a tiny hole he knew of, hoping that the rat would pass before he guessed he was there. The rat did pass _ and at once Pitterpat turned and fled back the way he had come, never stopping once until he had got back to his own cosy home again, high up in the hedgerow.
As he scrambled into the big, round nest all his sisters and brothers cried out in surprise. ‘Oh, here’s the one back again! Have you made your fortune?’
‘No,’ said the dormouse, hanging his head. ‘I haven’t made a fortune but I’ve made a lot of mistakes. I’m not clever, I’m very stupid. For-give me and let me live here again with you.’
So his family forgave him, and the little dormouse lived happily in the hedgerow. ‘It’s best to be what you are!’ he thought. ‘I’m glad I’m a stupid little dormouse!’
