Here I am. Bessie Beetum. And there's my picture over there.
I can't believe I'm doing this. Going public, I mean. But I've been quiet for too long. I've got to start talking.
It was forty years ago when that Miss Creative rescued me from the display shelf at FAO Schwarz. She seemed real nice, of course. Said she'd take me to the country...find a little hollow tree house for me...even write a book about me. But did any of it ever happen? No. So I've had forty years of sitting on HER mantlepiece, in HER house, looking out of HER window. Hardly any better than sitting on the shelf at FAO Schwarz. But I didn't say anything. I didn't think she'd listen.
So what's finally got me talking, after forty years of silence? Well, dear Miss Creative seems to think she's moving to Phoenix, Arizona. And guess what? That means I'm moving, too. As if I have a choice. Can you imagine? Me, leaving New England? I never thought it would come to this. And the worst part? Phoenix is a DESERT. No trees. No brooks. Probably no mice.
I can't stand it.
Miss Creative just got off the phone. Sounds as though someone's coming tomorrow to pack up all her belongings. I'll keep you posted. If I survive.
