Once upon a time I was walking afield

And the field was walking me.

From the ground I heard a Squeak

But upon visual inspection it was coming

Not strictly from the ground

But from a Field Mouse thereon

And upon aural inspection the squeak

Was actually the Mouse saying “Hey.”

“Yes, sir?” I politely rejoined.

“Hi.”

“Hi, yourself, O Mouse,” said I. “What can I do for you?”

“Can I give you a hug?”

“Thanks, O Mouse, but no. Impossible. You are too small and your forelegs cannot reach around me.”

“I can hug your ankle!” The Mouse squeaked,  imploring me with his or her eyes. —HIS eyes, I mused, eyeing his impressive, fur-enwrapped jewels as he stood up with his “arms” wide.

“Promise not to bite?”

“I promise.” And the Mouse gave my ankle a Ground Zero warm hug, and I was suddenly filled with toasty contentment. The Mouse backed up and beamed.

“Thank you, Mouse. That was the best hug my ankle ever had. But why?”

“Because you were trudging, and I could tell you needed a hug. And for tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?”

“Yes,” said the Mouse, with a grin in his squeaky voice. “A day early, today, but I won’t see you tomorrow, for you shall be long gone. So…” and here he paused for comedic timing…

“Happy Ground-Hug Day!!”

I groaned appreciatively. “You are my kind of Mouse, buddy–” but behold he had disappeared.

***

And Happy Ground-Hug Day to you, my distant Friend, and thanks for reading my Bad Pun of Groundhog Day Eve. 🙂