'Twas the season for sneezing and all through the house not a creature was quiet -- not even the mouse. With tiny-sized sniffles and paws he should clean, a sick little mousekin completed the scene: A family of ill ones all tucked in their beds, sipping coughsyrup cocktails to lighten their heads, But the poor baby mouse had nothing to take: his chest was all stuffed, his nose and eyes ached. So under the floorboards he crawled here and there, searching for aspirin or things he could share; Maybe a tissue, a coughdrop to lick... anything people might take when they're sick. "If it works for others, then maybe for me! I'd try anything now, even Vitamin C!" He searched and he hunted this way and that his aching head tired, his hair full of mats, Till at last he sighed and gave up his quest, tucking his tail for a brief moment's rest. When who should appear but a girl and her sniffles; carrying handfuls of Kleenex all wadded in fistfuls; She noticed the mouse and begin to shout! but the sight of his plight kept the cry from her mouth. They startled each other and stared eye to eye: the mouse in his corner the girl on her side; "Oh dear little mouse, what's happened to you? It looks to my eyes like you're sick with the flu!" His eyes were too runny to blink in response, so he wiggled his whiskers and twitched his tail once. She patted his head and said, "My dear, it's alright!" You can cozy with me for the rest of the night! So they slept in her bed that girl and her mouse, and no one else stirred all through the house.