A Moment of Poetry

Hortense the mouse turned fifteen last November. It’s just like with kids—you turn your back for two seconds, and boom, fifteen years have flown by.

Fifteen years—it feels both short and long. Hortense was born in my friend Nathalie’s living room-workshop, on a rainy Sunday spent sewing and crafting with the girls. And it feels just as much like it was yesterday as it does like it was in another lifetime. We’ve done so much since then…

People have often asked me: Why a mouse doll?

At first, I wasn't really sure.

Maybe because my mom’s name is Mrs. Mouse… I can tell you’re skeptical, but yes, it’s absolutely true. It’s her very own nickname!

Maybe it’s because I’ve been drawing mice my whole life, so I just keep doing it—after all, a childhood love lasts forever.

But anyway, I think I've finally figured it out.

When I was 4 years old, in Ms. Thouvenin’s class, I learned a poem. Ever since then, it’s been an integral part of our family. Not a month goes by without us reciting one of its verses.

So:

Mrs. Mouse is trotting along.

Little Miss Mouse scurries along, following the pretty butterfly
Naughty Little Miss Mouse, hurry home
Watch out, little mouse, a mean cat is waiting for you!
Quick, quick, run away
Hide in the cellar!
Munch munch munch*

There you go—the mystery has been solved.

And in the next collection—coming this spring, so very soon—there will be new mice.

And cats, too, because the cat-te-guette isn't so bad after all—he never ate Hortense!

Warm regards.

Béné

* Munch, munch, munch—that’s the sound a mouse makes when it’s hiding.
Just in case you were wondering…