In the midst of all the stirring up of less-than-pleasant thoughts of family, my sister sent me a link to a song that our grandfather used to sing to us as we were going to sleep. He'd sing to us nearly every night of our visits but this was a favorite for both of us.
Our grandfather was reputed to me mean and wily in his younger years, but by the time we came along, he had mellowed into a sweet guy. He tried his best to bond with us, sometimes with little success (I'm thinking of a failed fishing expedition that was just too gross for me) and sometimes with more (singing at bedtime).
The page containing the lyrics also links to a recording of the song. It's sung sweetly, but with absolutely no emotion on the line containing the mousie's exclamation. Our grandfather used to work up to that line, practically squealing out a little "oh" just as a mouse would squeak it, spurring us to imagine just why the little kitty with pearly teeth would actually drop its prey.
What a comfort to hear this song again and to remember those sacred moments just before sleep, summer breezes blowing, occasionally a cat at the end of the bed. Those were cherished moments.
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