The mouse who forgot himself

Once upon a time, there was a little mouse who lived happily in a cozy nook of a bustling house. He had his crumbs, his warm little corner, and all was well.

One day, as he was nibbling on a piece of cheese, a sleek cat appeared in the doorway. The mouse’s heart nearly stopped. He squeaked in terror and scrambled back into his hole, trembling. The cat prowled closer, her green eyes fixed on him, and the mouse was certain this was the end.

But the cat grew bored and wandered away.

As his heart finally slowed, the mouse thought, “If only I could be a cat! Then I would never have to be afraid again. I would be graceful, respected, and powerful. No one would frighten me.”

At that very moment, something magical happened—perhaps it was the wish itself, or perhaps something else was listening. The mouse felt himself growing, stretching, transforming. His whiskers lengthened, his body became sleek and muscular, and suddenly he was a cat.

For a while, he was perfectly content. He prowled the house with confidence, leaping onto windowsills and stretching in the sun. No more hiding. No more fear. He was respected now.

But then one day, as he was lazily washing his paws, a dog bounded into the room. The cat-who-was-once-a-mouse froze. The dog was enormous—all teeth and bark and thundering paws. It lunged at him, barking ferociously, and the cat scrambled up the curtains, his heart pounding, claws digging into the fabric.

The dog eventually lost interest and trotted away.

Panting on top of the curtain rod, the cat thought, “A dog! That’s what I need to be! Dogs are so much more powerful than cats. Everyone respects them. Everyone listens when they bark. If I were a dog, nothing could frighten me.”

And again, the magic happened. He grew larger, stronger, his body transformed into that of a powerful dog. He barked with authority, and everyone in the house moved aside when he walked through. He felt invincible.

Until the day he encountered a lion.

It happened when he was taken on a walk to the edge of town, near the traveling circus. Through the bars of a cage, he saw it—a magnificent lion with a golden mane, eyes like amber fire. The lion roared, and the sound shook the dog’s very bones. Every instinct told him to run, to cower, to submit to this king of beasts.

As he trembled before the cage, he thought, “A lion! Now that is true power. If I were a lion, I would be the strongest of all. Nothing in the world could harm me then.”

The transformation came once more. He became a mighty lion, his roar echoing across the savanna where he now found himself. Animals scattered at his approach. He was magnificent, powerful, the undisputed king.

But then, one day, as he rested in the shade of an acacia tree, he heard a sound that made his blood run cold—the trumpet of an elephant. An enormous bull elephant came crashing through the trees, ears flared, tusks gleaming. The elephant charged at him, and the lion ran. He ran and ran, his heart pounding with a fear he thought he’d left behind.

When the elephant finally stopped pursuing him, the lion thought, “An elephant! That’s it—that’s the ultimate power. Elephants are the largest, the strongest, the most respected. Nothing frightens an elephant. If I were an elephant, I would finally, truly be safe.”

And so he became an elephant—massive, powerful, with tusks like spears and a body like a mountain. He walked through the world with slow, heavy steps, and everything made way for him. Surely now, at last, he had found peace.

But one day, as he was drinking from a watering hole, he felt something small and quick scurry across his foot. He looked down and saw it—a tiny mouse.

Terror shot through him. He trumpeted in alarm and backed away, his huge body trembling. A mouse! The elephant’s ancient instinct told him that mice could crawl into his trunk, could hurt him in ways that his great size couldn’t protect against.

He watched the little creature scurry away, and suddenly he froze.

A mouse.

He remembered, as if from a distant dream, that he had once been a mouse. Him. He had been that small, quick, clever creature. And in that moment, something shifted in his mind. He looked at the tiny mouse with wonder rather than fear.

“I was a mouse,” he whispered. “I was small and quick and I lived in a cozy corner with crumbs and warmth. I was… happy.”

All at once, he saw the truth: he had spent so long running from fear, becoming bigger and stronger, that he had forgotten the simple joy of being himself. Each transformation had only brought new fears, new things to run from. The cat feared the dog. The dog feared the lion. The lion feared the elephant. And the elephant feared the mouse.

“I didn’t know how powerful mice are! ” he said softly. “I want to be a mouse again,”

And in that moment, the magic happened one final time. He shrank and shrank, until he was once again a tiny mouse. He scurried back to his cozy nook in the bustling house, found his warm corner and his crumbs.

And there, small as he was, he was finally content. Because he had learned that no matter how big or powerful you become, there will always be something to fear—unless you learn to be at peace with who you already are.

The little mouse never wished to be anything else again.