A Farewell

'Dear friends,' said the king of the mice. A small but affectionate group had gathered behind the skirting board. 

'I rejoice to see you,' he said, with a gentle smile. There was a murmuring of approval.

'But I must admit to you that my feelings at this moment are mainly those of disappointment and regret.'

Silence.

'Disappointment, that over my long years as king I have made many, many mistakes and errors of judgement. Regret both towards you, my people, for the many unkind nips and chastisements I dealt to you - it was often my own sour mood that was to blame - and towards the countless smaller and weaker creatures I have done to death to maintain my own life, to satisfy my ferocious appetite.'

A ripple of amusement ran through the company.

'But now, I am old. I think back on those skirmishes for superiority with other mice. At one time, I was a force to be reckoned with – I suppose I had my moments, as has any king. There was a day when my teeth were sharp, when it was a dreadful thing to be on the receiving end of my bite.'

He paused.

'Today, my friends, my teeth are few and blunt.' 

Somewhere in the audience, a muffled sob was heard. 

'Do not weep when I say I have to come to yearn for the darkness. I know that the church mice speak of something more, something altogether better. I advise you to keep an open mind.' 

The timing was perfect. At that very moment, a light sniffing noise was heard at the small hole in the skirting board and the unmistakable smell of cat pervaded the space behind the plaster wall. Instinctively, the younger mice dashed to press themselves into the darkest corners.

The king of the mice crawled stiffly towards the hole until he was within a whisker length of the waiting cat.

'My dear friends,' he said. 'My finest moment has come.'