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existence, and only in the rarest cases, as in the story described here, is it played with the vigor of ancient times.
    As my tale begins, Mouse is keeping a low profile in a little hole in the wall in Cat's world. She is dressed in a flimsy rag, which is the modern fashion for the mice in Cat's world, but which barely covers her nakedness and leaves her always feeling exposed and exploited. Still, our Mouse feels relatively safe from Cat because of her rebellious attitude, which his kind interprets as coldhearted spitefulness. This suits Mouse perfectly, for Cat disgusts her.
    "Ha! Cowards!" laughs Mouse, as yet another cat scurries past her little hole in the wall, hastening to get away from the hostile creature therein. "How fearful those big, strong cats become when they encounter anger from a powerless little mouse! I shall easily escape the fate of my sisters with mere animosity as my defense."
    Indeed, it was not difficult for her to bring forth feelings of animosity. She hated being exploited in this cat-dominated world, never being understood or appreciated for her intelligence and sensitivity. And yet, whenever a cat stopped at the opening of her little den to look her over, she was seized with strange sensations that were both disturbing and frightening. But she refused to let the cats see her fear or, more especially, her secretly harbored hope that she might someday meet a real cat, like those she had read about in romantic novels. So she hissed and cursed at them, laughing to herself as they nearly tripped over their own feet in their hurry to escape her.
    She set her face in an expression of haughty disdain as she heard another cat approach. He was much larger than she was, as were all the others, but she reminded herself that size wasn't everything. She was certain that her will was superior to his.
    She struggled to remain composed as the cat stood in the entranceway, his eyes moving leisurely over her body. The usual agitation burned in her. By what right did cats think they could ogle mice in that rude way? How did it get to the point where this was considered normal behavior? If she behaved like other mice, she was now expected to be flattered to have been honored with his attention! She jerked her chin up even higher and met Cat's eyes with a look of disgust.
    He was uncommonly handsome, she grudgingly noticed. It was indeed unusual these days for a cat to care about his appearance at all. They were generally so scraggly and unkempt that it offended one to be anywhere near them. But then, the mice were so busy worrying about their own appearances that it rarely occurred to them to notice that the cats were not worth all the trouble.
    This cat, however, was one of the few who would be considered worth the trouble. But that was all the more reason to avoid him in Mouse's opinion, for the good-looking cats were worse than the slovenly ones. They were in great demand and they knew it, and it was hard work indeed to win their affection for a single moment, let alone to achieve any kind of long-term devotion. As she looked at this cat's self-assured expression, Mouse realized he probably had a number of mice at his beck and call. She forced herself to look past his physical beauty.
    But it was impossible not to note the thick hair that fell in short dark waves around his face, or the faultlessly chiseled features that arranged themselves into an expression of absolute confidence and poise. His muscular body moved with singular grace and ease. Mouse's sharp instincts warned her that she had better get rid of him quickly. She drew her most effective weapon in ridding herself of cats: her tongue.
    "Look all you like, pig," she snarled. "You will never be allowed to touch." For at the very least, this strange world in which she lived would not permit a cat to force a mouse to submit against her will. Indeed, there was not the slightest temptation for them to do so anyway, since mice were offering themselves up