Plans Collapsing Under Mouse Paws
In the Fall of 2023, I was visiting my mom in a small town in Poland, where I grew up (I live in Canada now). And while there, I discovered that I wasn’t the only guest in that house.
There were mice in my Mom’s pantry, a clear indication that yearly post-harvest migration of mice, from the fields into homes, was underway. Quite well underway.
For us rural folks, it wasn’t a shocking discovery, so we knew what to do: dust off the live mousetrap, set it up, and wait for the mice to take the bait.
Our plan was to drive the “loaded” trap far out into the fields, and release our uninvited guests back to where they came from, to the place they belong. We thought we had a solid, foolproof, and humane plan.
But things didn’t go exactly as we had envisioned. Although we caught the mice and put the trap in the car, Mom’s car wouldn’t start.
The battery died.
When the battery was charging up after I arranged for a boost, I took matters into my own hands, literally. I carried the mousetrap away from the house, at the edge of a field right behind the local school’s gym.
That’s where I set all the mice free. Or so I thought.
I had no idea that one had escaped and was hiding in the car. A fact that I was about to discover the hard way.
Face-to-Face with a Rodent Hitchhiker
Later that day, I was driving to the city to get groceries. For all intents and purposes, it was a typical Saturday afternoon. There I was, driving along the quiet street, minding my own business.
And suddenly, I noticed a movement next to my left hand. A mouse head peeked out from the heat vent.
I let out quite a loud scram, something that I’m not particularly proud of. (But I bet everyone would have screamed, too!)
How I managed to keep the car steady is still a mystery to me, but somehow I did. Not only that, I also managed get my phone out and took a picture.
I did it just in the nick of time, because right after that, the mouse squeezed through the vent, climbed out, ran across the dashboard, and then sat in a little nook where the windshield meets the dashboard. Far on the passenger side. The mouse looked pretty comfortable there, looking out the window as though it was enjoying the scenery.
I might have a high tolerance for mice sightings, but driving around with a mouse on the dashboard was way above what I was wiling to consider “acceptable”. All I could think about was what I could use to get the mouse down.
With my eyes concentrating on the road, I blindly reached around to tap all the nooks and crannies within reach until…I found something.
It was my Mom’s Chinese handheld fan, one she picked out as a souvenir on Spadina during one of her visits to Toronto. She kept in the car just in case, because the AC had a mind of its own. Her words, not mine.
This would do, I concluded, and reached with the fan towards the mouse. It worked! The mouse jumped down to the floor, ran to the back of the car… and disappeared.
I thought that after so much commotion this would be the end of my mouse encounters. But it was just the beginning.
Hide and Seek
Without issue, I made it to the mall, parked the car, and went shopping. I thought that by the time I came back, the mouse would be gone for good. But that wasn’t the case. As I was about to load the groceries into the car… I saw the creature again.
This time, it sat on top of the water bottles that were laying on the back seat. It looked like the mouse chewed through the plastic wrap. Trying to get a drink, perhaps? With the help of the fan, I convinced the mouse to go back to hiding in the back of the car.
I also made a mental note: I was now dealing with a thirsty, and most likely hungry mouse, a perfect recipe for a very determined stowaway. Not wanting it to get into the groceries I just bought, I placed them on the passenger seat where I could keep an eye on them.
I’m glad I did. Halfway through my drive back home, the mouse climbed onto the passenger seat. That fan came in handy for the third time that trip.
I had underestimated this mouse, though. At some point, I felt tiny paws scaling up my left leg. As if the mouse was trying to distract me. I screamed again, almost loosing control of the car. The mouse didn’t like it and went back into hiding.
For the rest of that drive, I stomped my feet rhythmically, like I was rehearsing for some kind of dance performance.
Trap Me if You Can
Eventually I made it home. I unloaded the groceries and told my Mom about my unexpected rodent hitchhiker. She responded, as if not really surprised: “I thought I saw three tails in the trap this morning.”
Thanks, Mom; I wish you’d said something before I left.
So, for the second time in 24 hours, I had to set up a trap in order of catch that third tail. I was having a strong sense of deja vu. By evening, the mouse was inside the trap. Then came the fun part: releasing it.
I was not taking any chances on this car ride, so I carried the trap on foot. My plan was to take the trap to the local park. But it was a cold evening, and that was a far walk. Instead, I trekked to the end of my Mom’s street, and released the mouse in front of the local church.
Short Story with a Cliffhanger
Upon my return to Canada a few weeks later, I shared this story, along with the pictures—because, let’s be honest, each one was worth a thousand words!—with my friends and family. They were equally impressed and curious. Impressed by a worthy addition to Ania’s unusual (or even crazy) stories. And curious, because everyone wanted to know what I would I do with this material; there was so much creative potential in it that they knew I couldn’t just let it go.
At that time I was struggling with writer’s block, and thought my writing days were behind me. So to my surprise, one evening in November 2023, I felt a strong impulse to write. I told the story of a little mouse who was taken away from the safety of her pantry by a little blue house on wheels. I wrote this story from the mouse’s perspective, and entitled it “Sisi the Mouse Goes for a Ride”.
In the last scene, Sisi is being released in front of the church by a giant—me. The ending felt like a cliffhanger.
What happened next? Who will Sisi meet at the church? I wanted to know, too, but the words stopped flowing. As if even I was only allowed a sneak peek.
So I switched gears and poured my creativity into a new form, textured art, which kept me busy and engaged. Once in a while I would catch myself wondering if I ever find time and inspiration to finish the story, knowing there’s more, but I couldn’t figure out how to bring it to life.
And that changed in a way I didn’t expect.
Loss and Signs
In November 2024, my Mom passed away. My husband and I went to Poland and stayed in my hometown for a few weeks after Mom’s funeral.
Mikey knew the story my little rodent hitchhiker, quite well, and was curious to see where the story happened.
I found the act of retracing my steps quite therapeutic. Being able to recall that funny encounter was a much needed distraction of dealing with the reality of losing a parent. A few times I caught myself looking at our local church, wondering what happened to Sisi, hoping that maybe I’d spot her.
But I saw a different animal. On the last day in my hometown, in the park by the lake, I saw an owl. The bird was standing right at the edge of the boardwalk, not bothered by my presence.
I was mesmerized, because I had never seen an owl in the wild before—they usually avoid people. That day, I saw one so close, I probably could have reached out and touched it if I wanted.
Instinctively, I pulled out my phone and took a few pictures, then continued my walk. I felt profound gratitude for seeing such a magnificent creature. Little did I know that this wouldn’t be the only owl I’d see in a wild.
When I returned to Canada, the owl sightings continued. I saw one in flight, another sitting quietly on a branch, in mid-day. I also kept coming across images of owls, and friends and strangers would spontaneously mention their own encounters with these birds, complete with the photos.
For a pattern seeking brain like mine, this was too much, and I wondered whether these owls were somehow connected to my Mom? The timing of it all was just way too specific to be coincidental.
And if they were the signs from her, what were they trying to tell me?
Children’s Book Worthy of Reading Aloud
Finally, I put the things together. That day my husband and I went on a hike in our local conservation area, and sure enough, we saw another owl. But it was what we saw next that made my jaw hit the floor. In one part of the park, wooden cases hold all kinds of educational materials for children to explore while in nature.
That day, they featured an illustrated children’s book about a character named Twig, who was having a difficult time making friends at school.
I went numb, and my husband started laughing. We both new this was the final sign. “Twig” is a translation of my Polish nickname, “Witka”, which I used to sign my articles and interviews my previous life as a journalist.
First the owl, now Twig. As if it was the forest’s way of saying: “Witka… it’s time to finish the story. It could become a book.”
My Mom was a Polish language teacher. She loved words and well-written stories. One of the things she loved most was reading aloud to children. From everything I’ve heard, her students cherished those moments, too, bringing them up in conversations with friends and family years after graduating. Many reminiscing on how the voices she created for each character matched them perfectly.
Now was the time to write a story my Mom would enjoy reading aloud. And that’s how, in mid-January 2025, I picked up where I had left off. This time, the words kept flowing. I wrote about Sisi’s adventures at the church, at the market, high the air… and eventually, I brought her back home.
I wrote it in English, as I found it easier to process grief in my second language. And I was very lucky to have my dear friend and editor, Sarah E. Furgala, on speed dial. We’d spent hours on the phone, discussing characters and strengthening the plot. Then she’d do her magic fixing what might have been an awkward phrase or not-so-clear syntax.
Hidden Layers of Meaning
When I wrote, I felt inspired to weave in small details—phrases, expressions, little quirks of my loved ones, to honour them and to keep them alive. Through my words, I created a whole “Sisi-verse”.
But it was my husband Mikey and his amazing illustrations that truly brought Sisi’s world to life. He spent three months drawing mice and other creatures, and recreating the characteristic places from my hometown, where the action takes place.
He did such a great job that, when my brother saw one illustration, he pointed to a house. Without a second thought, he named the people who lived there.
And while I may have preserved the words and character traits, Mikey went one step further and placed our actual friends and family into the illustrations as little “Easter eggs”. He even drew an almost exact replica of the little blue house on wheels—my Mom’s car—(and a couple of our family’s vehicles too!).
In Closing
On the surface, “The Amazing Adventures of Sisi the Mouse” might look like another children’s book. A humours work of fiction with original illustrations. But for me, this book is much more than that.
It’s a creative collaboration between people who stood by me in the darker moments. And it’s also a tribute to my hometown—and to the places forever etched in my heart.
And, hopefully, it’s a story that my Mom would enjoy reading aloud to her students, voices and all.
