When Norman hears a mouse inside
  His house he'll scream incessantly.
As soon as he's identified
  The source of his distress he'll flee.

He'll wake up all the neighbours
  And he'll run in circles on the lawn.
He'll stay outside, despite the cold,
  Until he sees the light of dawn.

Historically, hysterics have
  Been common in his family.
Uncle Peter was a priest.
  In homilies he'd damn a tree

That failed to make a feast of fruit
  Or sticks to beat the beast to hell
(Chased away, insisting he's
  Not hurt or in the least unwell).

He'd cook a flea or butterfly
  Who'd dearly love to book a flight.
You'd hear him mutter gratitude
  To God each time he took a bite

From sandwiches with slices of
  The butterfly or flea he'd cooked,
Blissfully oblivious to
  How bizarre he must have looked.

Many aunts and uncles have
  Exhibited a seasoned craze,
But Norman says the source of his
  Great fear lies in his childhood days.

His nanny always looked as if
  She had a little lamb to slay.
When he was only ten months old
  She took his much-loved pram away.

His tenure as an infant ended
  Instantly and he was left
To find his food and dine alone
  And then defend his room from theft.

He found that independent life
  And fending for himself was hard.
His solo expedition to
  The kitchen door was often marred

By fights with teddy bears on flights
  Of stairs and fast-inflating fears
When teddies made their threats to start
  A fire when they were wet with tears.

Baddies were defeated and
  The foes disguised as potted plants
Waited patiently to pounce
  But failed to halt his slow advance.

The cat who blocked the kitchen door
  Was kind enough to let him in.
She purred a lot of words about
  Returning to the vet again,

And how her friend's cavorting with
  An alley-cat who will be at
The park to fight a tabby in
  A tiny, tattered Trilby hat.

Norman listened as the cat
  Communicated her complaint
About the constant rain and staying
  In because of its constraint.

When he got away from her
  He crawled in through the kitchen door.
The cupboards high above his head
  Enthralled him as he crossed the floor.

The dog was there to lift him on
  A chair from where he reached the fridge.
His caring canine butler re-arranged
  The stools to make a bridge

That took him to the cooker and
  The cupboards for the pans and pots.
The butler got the cutlery
  And battled underhand robots

Who cut the tops off tins and cans
  That bled red beans and garden peas.
He signed a new peace treaty with
  The cat and chose to pardon fleas,

A truce that would allow the dog
  To concentrate on making sure
His miniature commander would
  Remain contented and secure.

Cutting coriander brought
  A risk that he would come to grief.
He could have suffered injuries
  While tenderising sirloin beef.

He managed to avoid a single
  Injury and he enjoyed
The meal he'd made. His garlic sauce
  Became a source of special pride.

His chocolate mousse dessert would not
  Disgrace a chef who strives for fame.
Norman would remain unknown.
  He couldn't even say his name.

He made a pot of tea for two
  And put a nice array of cheese
On china plates, with chocolate treats
  And crackers too, a tray of these.

The dog admired his master's traits
  When Norman asked him to sit down
Without commanding 'sit!' and then
  Responding only with a frown

If he played dead instead or stayed there
  Standing with a stupid grin.
The dog ate all the crackers and
  He put the crumbs into the bin.

A mouse believed the cheese was much
  More appetising than the mousse.
His journey to retrieve a piece
  Would terminate the pleasant truce.

Before he reached the table he
  Was spotted by the clever cat,
Who saw right through the sheep disguise
  And straightaway she smelled a rat.

She chased the mouse around the floor.
  The dog joined in to make them stop.
The mouse led his pursuers over
  Chairs and 'cross the table top.

Norman watched in horror as the
  Dinner plates were smashed to bits,
A loud symphonic medley of the
  Crockery's new Greatest Hits,

And into this cacophony came
  Noises of the pots and pans,
Falling to the floor where they formed
  Piles with flour and fruit and cans,

And all the other food knocked down
  With knives and forks and jars of jam.
Milk and honey mingled with
  The broken eggs and damaged ham.

A monumental mess was made.
  The mouse did not receive the blame.
Norman was accused of it.
  He tried his best to clear his name,

But no one understood him even
  Though the dog gave his support
For Norman's version of events
  In their informal kitchen court.

His parents didn't trust him
  In the kitchen till he turned eighteen.
And even then they only let him
  Heat a solitary bean.

This trauma is the source of his
  Aversion to the mice he hears.
He can't explain why ice cream cones
  Should trigger overwhelming fears.