The Danbo Brothers generally love to spend the whole of their days outdoors. But a recent Arctic cold snap, coupled with an inability (a temporary one, if I know the Danbos) to find suitable winter hats and scarves, has kept them housebound. Yet, to watch them happily while away their time indoors, one would never know they have such a decided preference for being outdoors. Their secret, I believe, is that they always seem to go with the flow—they simply have a knack for finding the silver lining on any clouds that drift their way.
Moonlight Mouse knew two things for sure: he knew what he wanted and he knew where to find it. The only uncertain part was knowing exactly how he would get it. But Moonlight did not call it uncertainty. He called it fun, he called it an adventure—it was the delicious figuring-it-out-as-you-go part. His best friend, Timothy, did not share his perspective, but no amount of dissuasion could diffuse Moonlight’s stubborn determination to venture into the potentially treacherous kitchen of “The Giant Ones” (as people are known to mice). He’d caught a whiff of something delectable wafting out from there, and now his desire to sample it was powerful.
Moonlight’s olfactory abilities were extraordinary, even for a mouse. He was gifted, to be sure: Moonlight’s nose was so refined that, often, he could accurately identify a scent from just a single molecule. He couldn’t help it that he had such a keen sense of smell and a finely-tuned palate—he simply had to follow the intoxicating scent trail, which he believed (if his incredibly discerning nose was correct), would lead him to a very fine, handcrafted, ten year old aged cheddar. Moonlight Mouse fancied his cheese extra-sharp. “A small nibble”, he thought, “just a wee morsel is all I need for a little midnight snack”.