Whoosh…..that was close. ‘Pat yourself Jerry’, my conscience yelled, ‘You were super fast, even by mousy standards’. I was ‘home’ now, a little space, I call my own, my safe haven from prying eyes, standing guard just outside.
I leave my defensive armor and pretentiousmasksat the threshold, I am ‘home’ now. Time to let down my tail (hair), put my feet up and feast on hard earned (by a whisker’s breadth) cheesy delights.
It is not Tom alone, I have to dodge these days, to lay my hands on heavenly bits. Mr. and Mrs. X are ‘home’ all the time, moving around with disgruntled faces. I hear, a Mr. Corona visiting the world, is reason for the gloom.
One ‘letter’ sets us apart, brings a world of difference to our status. Tom is a ‘pet’, who purred his way into a fine ‘home’, gorging on servings of fish and milk, from a platter. I, Jerry, am a ‘pest’, pride myself on burrowing my own ‘home’ and fending for myself. A hole in the wall no doubt, but forever my ‘home sweet home’.